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It had been a long day of pretending to work when Morgan pulled Reid into his office. He fixed the younger man with a concerned stare and Reid clutched at his messenger bag, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.
Morgan had already pulled him aside to ask him if he was okay after what had happened with Hotch and the Reaper less than two weeks ago. He still wasn’t sure why everyone seemed to think he was going to breakdown; it was Hotch’s ex-wife who had been murdered, Hotch’s son whose life had been threatened and Hotch who had beaten a man to death.
Everyone apparently thought Reid was in some fragile state where any mention of trauma could utterly destroy him. It would’ve been touching if it wasn’t absolutely annoying.
Morgan didn’t spend any time beating around the bush, “I don’t think you should go to Baltimore tomorrow,”
Reid frowned, letting his grip on his bag slip, “What? Why not?”
Morgan sighed, “We’ve all been through a lot these past couple of weeks,” he said, “I just don’t think you should be talking to Lecter when you’re -”
“I’m what? Vulnerable?” Reid frowned, shaking his head, “Morgan I am capable of doing my job, you know.”
“Talking to Lecter isn’t part of your job,” Morgan’s voice was a bit hard as he studied his friend, “It’s something you do because… hell if I know why you’re still talking to him.”
“You can’t tell me not to talk to him, Morgan,” Reid said, “I’m not doing anything wrong.”
Morgan sighed, “I know,” he said, and he sounded like it pained him to admit that. Reid was pretty sure if they could find a real reason to stop him from going to Baltimore, they would. Sometimes it felt like they were ready to just handcuff him to his desk to stop him from talking to Dr. Lecter.
“But I hope you’ll at least hear me out,” he said, “I’m worried about you, Reid.”
“Don’t be,” Reid was tired of hearing these speeches. The “are you sure this is a good idea” and the “I really think you should take a break from this,” that the team seemed to be dolling out constantly.
“I can’t stop you from going,” Morgan said, and he still sounded completely defeated, “but I can make sure you don’t go alone.”
Reid frowned, “I don’t need anyone to hold my hand, Morgan.”
“I know you don’t,” Morgan said, “But I’m worried about you. We’ve all been through a lot these past couple of weeks.”
Reid started to protest, but Morgan held up a hand and cut him off, meeting his eyes, “Just humor me, Pretty Boy. Alright?”
Reid sighed and nodded slowly, “Okay,” he said, “but this doesn’t mean you’re going to come with me every time I go to Baltimore.”
Morgan smiled, nodded, “Agreed,”
Dr. Chilton blinked a couple of times when he saw Morgan with Reid, but he composed himself quickly. His gaze skirted over Reid – as it had ever since the incident in his office almost three months ago – and plastered an entirely false smile on his face as he greeted them and allowed them through.
Spencer could practically feel the doctor seething. He had more than once approached Reid after his talks with Lecter to ask him what he’d done to get him to open up. Hannibal was still being a stubborn patient when it came to Chilton.
Not that Reid was surprised. Hannibal hated the man and it amused him to irritate Chilton to the point of madness. Every method of therapy Chilton tried was spat back in his face, usually with some joke at his expense.
“Does he always look like he wants to strangle you, or is that something new?” Morgan glanced over his shoulder as they were led by a guard down the narrow, dark halls in the hospital.
Reid shrugged, “Dr. Chilton wants to crack Dr. Lecter,” he said, “but Lecter isn’t exactly a compliant patient.”
“What a surprise,”
Reid sighed and shook his head, “Just promise me you’re not going to start acting like some overly macho, testosterone filled jerk. I really don’t think he’ll say anything if you try to intimidate him.”
Morgan glanced sideways at his friend, a small frown on his face. He nodded slowly as the last set of steel bars were opened and they were waved through. He felt oddly like they were walking into a lion’s den.
Hannibal leaned forward curiously as he heard the footsteps heading toward his cell. Two sets of footsteps and the faintest murmur of voices. He recognized Spencer’s immediately, of course, but the other voice was new. Spencer wasn’t alone this time.
Briefly, Hannibal wondered what this could mean, but he didn’t spend time speculating as the voices fell silent and the steady footsteps drew nearer. He would find out soon enough.
Spencer didn’t hesitate to lift his messenger bag over his head and nod briefly in greeting, “Good morning, Dr. Lecter,”
He was strangely distracted as the new person came into view. Tall, but not as tall as Spencer. Very well muscled and wearing a thin t-shirt and an empty holster at his side. Another FBI agent then.
Hannibal’s nostrils flared as he took in the new scent – cheap cologne, cotton from the shirt, the faintest traces of wood and paint and dog.
“Spencer, so nice to see you again. And you’ve brought a friend,”
Spencer’s jaw twitched just slightly and it was very obvious that Spencer didn’t want the other man there, in spite of the way the man situated himself, practically putting himself right between Hannibal and the young agent. Clearly, he was over-protective and a bit possessive.
“This is Derek Morgan,” Spencer said, “He’s acting Unit Chief on my team.”
“Acting?”
Spencer hesitated for a moment before answering, “Agent Hotchner took a leave of absence,”
“Ah, yes,” Hannibal nodded, “That business with the Boston Reaper, I heard about that. Tell me, how did Agent Hotchner kill him, the article didn’t specify. Did he shoot him?”
“No,” Agent Morgan answered, his voice hard. He wasn’t even trying to hide the glare now. The open note of hostility in Agent Morgan’s voice amused Hannibal and he smiled a bit as he turned his eyes toward him.
“You don’t like me very much, do you Agent Morgan?”
“No, I don’t,”
Hannibal didn’t miss the way Spencer shook his head slightly at Agent Morgan’s venom. It was obvious the FBI agent was concerned for his friend, but Spencer saw no reason for the concern and was probably annoyed by it more than anything.
That would prove to be a mistake, eventually.
“We’ve just met,” Hannibal said, “how can you hate me when you don’t even know me?”
“Because I know what you’ve done,” Agent Morgan said, “I’ve seen the pictures of the mutilated bodies. You’re a monster.”
“Is that why you became an FBI agent? To fight monsters? Did you have monsters in your past, Agent Morgan? In your childhood?”
“That’s not any of your business,”
“And yet you seem to think it’s your business what I talk about with Spencer…”
“Spencer,” Agent Morgan ground the name between his teeth, probably picking up on Hannibal’s possessive use of the young man’s name, “is my friend. I’m obligated to make sure that he isn’t being harmed.”
Hannibal smirked, “You really think Spencer needs someone there to hold his hand? Do you think he’s not capable of fending for himself?”
“Spencer,” Spencer suddenly cut in, his lips tight, “is standing right here. And I’d appreciate it if you stopped talking about me like I’m a child.”
“Of course, Spencer,” Hannibal smiled apologetically and Spencer sent him an annoyed glare, well aware that he was being patronized. “We were being very rude.”
Morgan didn’t say anything, but he did step back as Spencer sat down in the folding chair. He placed a hand on the back of the chair, setting Hannibal with a determined glare. It was childish and amusing the way he seemed to be trying to assert his dominance and flaunt his closeness to Spencer.
Agent Morgan didn’t interrupt their conversation, listening and never once looking away from Hannibal. Hannibal was careful to keep the conversation from deviating too far into the personal with Morgan there. He certainly didn’t want Agent Morgan to think Spencer was allowing him in to his mind too much.
The conversations were usually brief, but this one seemed to drag on a bit longer. Normally, that would’ve made Hannibal very happy, but with Agent Morgan’s presence he wasn’t able to talk as freely as he might have.
Which is why he was grateful when Agent Morgan received a phone call and stepped further down the hall, giving him a few precious minutes alone with Spencer.
Hannibal’s eyes followed Agent Morgan as he left before turning to look at Spencer again. “I take it you did not request Agent Morgan presence here today?”
Spencer sighed and shook his head, still looking down the hall after Morgan. “He’s just worried about me.”
“It seems he’s overstepping a bit,” Hannibal said gently.
Spencer scowled, turning to look at him finally, anger flaring in his eyes. “He’s only trying to make sure that I’m alright. He means well.”
“I meant no offense,” Hannibal said, still keeping his voice as gentle and even as he possibly could. “It simply seems that Agent Morgan is perhaps a bit too concerned. You are, after all, a trained FBI agent. You don’t need a babysitting.”
Spencer’s lips were pressed into a tight line, “You’re manipulation is a bit clumsy, Dr. Lecter,” he said, his voice even, “Just because I’m unhappy about Morgan being here doesn’t mean that I’m suddenly going to see you as my friend.”
Hannibal grinned, “You’ve already seen me as a friend, Spencer,” he said, “Or do you imagine that it’s normal to confide in someone who isn’t your friend about nightmares and drug addictions?”
Hannibal watched, not hiding his smile, as Spencer paled and his fists clenched. His jaw worked like he was trying to come up with some retort, but the return of Agent Morgan cut him off.
“We’ve got a case, Kid,” he said, not even bothering to look at Hannibal, “the team’ll pick us up on the way. Let’s go.”
Hannibal watched Spencer nod jerkily, snatching his bag and practically running down the hall. He imagined he probably wouldn’t see Spencer for a while, but he would be back. Of that he was absolutely certain.
-end-