Title: Familiar Strangers 1?

Summary: The BAU team from Criminal Minds has a case in Vegas, but how do Reid and Nick know each other?

Rating: PG (each part will be rated individually, some will contain descriptive violent scenes read each warning carefully)

Notes: This crossover had been kicking around for awhile but after a bunch of encouragement and support (damn you all!) the bunny blossomed and now I have a wonderful beta who edits my grammar and gracefully allows me to distract her from finals and bother her on vacation. Thanks to silentflux for the wonderful assistance.

Notes 2: If you don’t know what CSI is (and if you don’t how is that you know about Criminal Minds?) Then go to the CSI website for a brief rundown.

He watched from his car as the child trudged home. Night was falling, twilight, one of his favorite times. That in-between state that was purgatory. The question was whether or not he redeemed himself in enough time. He pulled the car up alongside the child. “Hey there son. You look pretty hungry. I have this extra burger here..thought you might like it.” The child had stopped and looked at him, clearly nervous and uncertain but his eyes spoke of hunger. He knew the child would take the sandwich.

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“Six murders, once a week for six weeks” Gideon tosses the files on the table and they slide into fan formation. He starts tacking photos of the children up.

“Six? And they’re just now calling us?” Morgan had always been amazed at how stubborn most law enforcement was.

“They didn’t realize that it was a serial. All the kids, unconnected. Male, female, white, black, as young as five and as old as twelve.” Gideon finished tacking up the pictures and Reid rose from his seat to examine them more closely. Four male children stared back and two girls. The youngest male child at five was black as was the oldest girl.

“It’s very unusual to see a killer vary from his own race. There are a few notables of course, but not common at all. There’s no connection at all -wait, I recognize this place in the picture. This is in Vegas.” Reid turned to look at Gideon who nodded yes. “Home sweet Home.” Reid muttered under his breath.

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“They look so peaceful.” Reid commented on the pictures he was examining. Once on the plane everyone had spread out and files where being passed around as one person finished and another needed it.

“Yeah they do.” Morgan agreed.

“The un-sub cares about these kids. He feeds them a good meal, washes them, places them so that they aren’t uncomfortable in places that kids are usually depicted as having fun, parks, grassy lawns, beside a pool. All public places with an inherent risk involved but he goes out of his way to make them more comfortable, even in death.”

“What about this verbena stuffed in their mouths? Very ritualistic. Verbena is usually considered a cleansing herb.” Gideon said without looking up.

“Supposedly verbena was used to staunch Christ’s wounds while he was on the cross. William Faulkner claimed that verbena is the only scent that can be smelled above horses and courage. Perhaps the unsub is trying to cleanse the children of something, or lend them something stronger than courage.” Reid absentmindedly chews his lip while looking at the files.

Elle sighs almost exasperated, “ I don’t get it, the care, the cleansing, this all points to a predator sexual in nature but none of these kids were raped or molested while the unsub had them. I mean the corner notes in the autopsy state that the last victim Billy Penndle was undernourished and that the unsub had fed him probably one of the kid’s best meals in the last month.” No one commented on Elle’s frustrated tirade, but they all understood.

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“Two CSIs are suppose to be picking us up.” Hotch said while scanning the crowds for said CSIs.

Gideon turned quickly, surprised, “CSIs? Why not the local agents?”

Reid butted in at this point, lecture voice firmly in place. “Las Vegas has the second best crime lab in the country, second only to our own federal lab which has much better funding. The Graveyard shift in particular has some of the best minds in the field. Dr. Gil Grissom is the top forensic entomologist in the country. I’ve heard that he’s not very fond of the FBI either.” During the short speech Hotchner had spotted the two CSIs and the team had started forward to meet them, a dark haired male and female.

Putting down his duffle Hotch stuck out his hand, “Special Agent Hotchner, FBI.” The female, who was bone thin to Hotch’s eyes grabbed his hand and shook it, her grasp was firmer than he expected.

“CSI Sara Sidle.” Hotch opened his mouth to introduce himself but turned amazed to watch the scene next to him.

Apparently Reid knew the other CSI, who was a good head shorter than Reid and very stocky. They appeared almost opposite in composition and to see Reid voluntarily hugging someone was, well, startling. The two seem awfully familiar, a warm comfortable smile gracing Reid’s face which was answered in same from the CSI.. Suddenly realizing the scene he was making Reid turned a little and ducked his head down blushing to his ear tips. “Guys,” Reid clears his throat nervously, “This is CSI Nick Stokes. We’re good friends.”

“Clearly.” Gideon’s voice is dry and tight and Hotch glances at him from the corner of his eye. In a clipped tone Gideon runs through the rest of the introductions and practically runs over Elle in a fast walk for the door. Sidle and Stokes exchange a glace that both looks startled and also questioning from Sidle’s side. Hotch figured that CSI Stokes was going to be grilled over the coals about how he knows Spencer as soon as they’re alone.

Walking out to the two cars parked in the loading zone Reid heads toward the front passenger seat of CSI Stokes Tahoe. “Reid, ride with Sidle.”

Reid turns and looks a bit bewildered, “But-“ Gideon shoots him a dark look and Hotch promptly decides that this was one car ride that he couldn’t miss out on. In fact pretty much everyone seemed to want in that car but Morgan managed to beat Elle and JJ there with little loss of dignity as well.

Gideon wasted no time they hadn’t even started to move when he asked, “So, how do you know Reid?”

Hotch was impressed by how cool Stokes was keeping it, after all he was being grilled by Jason Gideon who had made stone cold killers weep like children with only verbal barbs. “Well I moved to Vegas about 10 years ago but didn’t start talking to Spencer until about 3 years ago. It was kinda part of a mentoring program. We got paired up because we’re both in law enforcement. Mostly we talk over the phone.”

Morgan leaned forward from the back, “so what he calls and talks to you about cases or something?”

“Nothing specific, classified most of the time but we talk about the emotional stuff, nightmares, life after death, you know the typical things that one talks about at 3 am when you can’t sleep. It’s not like it’s one way.” Nick could tell from the set of Gideon’s face that he wasn’t happy about Reid talking to someone outside the unit. “I talk to him about all kinds of stuff. I had some serious shit going on in my life and sometimes you can’t talk about it with your team, your friends or your family. Sometimes you need a familiar stranger.”

Hotch, who had been continent to listen spoke up, “that’s very eloquent.”

Nick flashed him a smile, “yeah well I’ve had lots of time to think about life and death recently. Besides Spencer is a good guy, I’d trust him to watch my back anytime.”

Morgan snorted at this, “if he has a gun it’d be better if he was in the front.”

Nick frowned at this, “are you talking about that case where Spencer shot someone right between the eyes?”

Morgan’s eyes widened and Hotch coming to the defense of the team mate in the car replied, “Reid did say he was aiming for the guy’s leg.”

Nick snorted softly, “what and you believed him? Let me tell you something about Reid. He is rarely successful at lying, but when he is it’s often to himself. Do you honestly think that if Reid had made the shot to the man’s leg he would have gone down quietly?”

Hotch voiced a quiet, “no.”

“How can you think that Reid wouldn’t know that, even subconsciously? He’s afraid of being good with the gun. He’s afraid of being good at killing people. Easier to tell himself that he didn’t mean to kill that man, that he pointed the gun at his leg and pulled up at the last second.”

The car was silent as they took in this stranger’s words, someone who talked to Reid on the phone and only met him in person a couple of times. This stranger who held more insight into one of their colleagues that they worked with everyday than they did themselves. The car remained silent, Gideon felt a little mollified, but this relationship was intrusive. Gideon was used to being the person that Reid got his helpful advice from. He mentored Reid, brought him into the fold at the FBI. Gideon knew about Reid’s small crush on him and felt flattered and even though he knew nothing was going to happen, it was hard to think of Reid turning his quiet affection and worship somewhere else.

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Not to be out done Sara Sidle was getting the CSI side’s back in questioning, but with three women in the car the atmosphere was decidedly less charged with aggression and the interrogation rather smacked of gossip to Reid.

“So Agent Reid how do you know Nick?”

Reid cleared his throat to stall a bit, knowing that the three women would want answers but unsure of how much he should reveal. “Ummm we met as part of a mentoring program. Three years now.” A small smile graced his lips, not the usual nervous kind that JJ and Elle were used to seeing. “Sometimes you need to talk to someone who you don’t see everyday, someone that you can confide in.” Reid had no idea how closely his words mirrored Nick’s. Reid glances at Sara out of the corner of his eye to gauge her reaction to his next words. “We’ve talked a lot about Gordon and what happened with that recently.”

Sara stiffened visibly. Her voice was tight with emotion and controlled anger, “He talks about that with you?” Nick had refused to even discuss it with the others when they had tried to bring it up.

“Yes.” Reid sensed how upset this was making her, that Nick had turned to someone that was a virtual stranger to the team to talk about this. Reid’s hand hovered for a second above her white knuckled grip on the steering wheel before he finally took that leap and covered her hand with his own. “Nick couldn’t talk to you about it, not to any of you. He could see how it hurt you to think about it. The fear that you were letting him down, he just couldn’t bear the burden of all your guilt as well. Sometimes you need a familiar ear, but a stranger to the situation.” Reid cast a lopsided grin at her, “You and I both know that he wouldn’t voluntarily see a psychologist about his problems.”

JJ leaned forward curious. “Reid isn’t one of your PhD’s in that?”

He turned back and smiled wickedly, “shhh” he placed a graceful finger to his lips and for just a second JJ wondered why things hadn’t gone anywhere after that football game. “Don’t tell. He doesn’t know that I can technically practice.”

Sara sat back huffily but somewhat mollified. However, she was still upset and unbalanced knowing that Nick had been talking to someone outside the team and not to them.

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Both cars arrived at the lab at almost the exact same time. Sara looked over and met Nick’s eyes over the hoods of the cars. It was a look filled with questions and curiosity, and Nick’s returning gaze held no answers. Similar looks were exchanged with the BAU team with the exception of Reid who kept his head down, and Gideon whose gaze was fixed decidedly forward. All the team members were professionals but they were also insatiably curious, no doubt like most dedicated law enforcement officers. They would put their curiosity about this part of Reid’s past aside, but they would all keep an eye out for more information on Dr. Reid’s mysterious past and even more surprisingly mysterious present.

1. Sara and Nick gave the team a quick tour of the lab. Normally, the team set up shop at the local field office or in a police station, but the CSIs in Vegas ran the show so that’s where they would be. They were just starting to claim the lounge as their own when a tallish black man with startling green eyes entered. Nick smiled just slightly, "hey, these are the FBI profilers from Quantico," Nick turned to the group behind him, "This is one of our CSIs-"

"Warrick Brown." All eyes swung to Spencer who seemed to have spoken without thought, but Reid at least had the good grace to look contrite. "Sorry. We’ve met."

Warrick looked a bit bewildered about this and Gideon wondered how the man could have forgotten a person like Reid. "Where?"

"High school, you were a graduating senior when I was an entering freshman." Reid's voice is flatly dry and just slightly tinged with amusement. As if working with a past bully is an everyday thing. Perhaps it was. Warrick’s eyes still held confusion and puzzlement. Reid sighed exasperated. "You called me a freaky geek and shoved me my locker the second day of class."

Warrick reasoned with shock, "What I don't remember that! Are you sure?"

Gideon replies just as droll as Reid earlier, "he would know. He has an eidetic memory."

Warrick’s eyes cleared, "Oh, yeah. You're that genius kid that skipped like 8 grades or something. Sorry." Warrick looked even more embarrassed and confused but Reid took pity on him.

"It’s okay." Reid assured Warrick in a softly amused voice. "Really, I mean that hardly qualified as hazing, more like a normal start to my day."

Sara eyed Warrick questioningly and Nick was suspiciously silent, "Warrick, I thought you were a science geek in high school?"

"He was." Reid answered amused, all eyes again swung toward him and faced with everyone’s scrutiny offers as an explanation, "Neitche."

Morgan voices everyone’s question; even Warrick didn’t seem to follow Reid’s one word theory, "What does Frederick Neitche have to do with it?"

"Frederick Neitche was of the philosophy that those who were weak prayed on the weaker in an attempt to feel more powerful." Grissom had entered the room at the tail end of the conversation unnoticed, but intrigued by the young man’s application of Nietche’s philosophy he couldn’t resist butting in.

Everyone’s eyes swung back to the salt and peppered entomologist and then swung back to Reid who replied, "Yes, that was the particular application I was going for." Reid smiled just slightly and stuck out his hand, "Dr. Grissom it is an honor to meet you. Again."

Grissom quirked an eyebrow, "Unlike Warrick I remember who you are Mr. Reid."

Reid inclined his head incrementally, "It’s, ah, Doctor now, and, actually, it was Doctor then as well."

"You seem to have done well for yourself."

"Apparently. Are there any new developments in the case?"

"No, but the killer kidnaps the victim twenty-four hours before killing them. We’re due for another missing child in a little over 72 hours."

That sentiment seemed to break apart the atmosphere and energize everyone all at once. Assignments were quickly passed out and the team dispersed to interview parents, examine the dump sites and comb photos for clues that might have been missed.

Several hours later found the team trickling back into the converted lounge where Reid and Gideon had stayed and placed up pictures and talked to the various CSI’s and detectives that had caught the cases. Several different shifts were involved which had partly led to failure to connect the cases.

Reid had been standing lost in thought in front of a wall where he had taped up a photo of each child from each dump site. He had been standing there for over twenty minutes, and everyone wondered what he was doing but hadn’t disturbed him yet. Nick walked in to the lounge and took in the clusters of people talking and either furtively glancing at Spencer or watching overtly.

He decided to take this into his own hands. "Hey what are you looking at?"

Reid continued to stare at the photos intently talking almost absent-mindedly to Nick. "It’s these photos. The children they look so peaceful. Tara Ingle, Jon Phillpe, Jill Smith, they all show signs of sexual assault that happened over a long period of time. I can’t help but think that this must be the most peace they’ve ever felt in their young lives." Reid inclined his head closer to the photos and Nick wondered at his ability to focus on the photos being that close.

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Gideon was watching Reid talking with Stokes from the hallway, he had been watching Reid look at the pictures until Stokes started talking to Reid. He saw how easily Reid slipped into his ‘thinking out loud mode’, something that Gideon had never witnessed him do with someone outside the team. Yet here was Reid easily chatting about his thoughts with this ‘familiar stranger’. Gideon turned slightly to acknowledge Grissom who had walked up behind him. "I heard that Nick and the young Dr. Reid know each other?"

"Yes. Some sort of mentoring program, one that I wasn’t aware of. Stokes, he has good instincts. He’s very good at reading people and motivation. He would make an excellent profiler."

Grissom turned almost aghast speaking in a harsh whisper, "Don’t you dare go and poach one of my guys!"

Gideon half turned one eye still on Reid and Nick the other on Grissom, "Your guys?"

Grissom would have responded, but his attention was diverted by Reid’s excited shout. Exchanging a glance that indicated that the conversation wasn’t finished they rushed into the room in time to here Reid excitedly say, "I know the victim connection! I just need to talk to some of the parents to confirm!" The room paused at the announcement before flying into a flurry of action and phone calls.

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He can remember growing up perfectly. It was long moments of boredom punctuated by short bursts of pain and fear. His mother was never around, instead his father would pile him and his sister into the car and they would drive to a neighborhood where he and his sister would be left to their own devices. He thinks that his father sold insurance, or maybe siding, that wasn’t important though, what he remembers is the stifling heat in the car, how sleepy he and his sister would get with the sun beating down and baking them. Sometimes he would wonder if the sun could purify them like fire with water. That uncomfortable heat was preferable to night, he wished for the sun to never set so many times. His grip turned white knuckled on the wheel and he pushed the past away. His past wasn’t important he had another child to save.

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Reid and Gideon were sitting in front of Mr. and Mrs. Durham the parents of Billy Durham, the second to last child killed. “Mr. Durham it has come to our attention that several of the other children killed were abused sexually before they were taken.” Mrs. Durham gasped muffled her sobs into her handkerchief. “Was Billy expecting any unusual behavior recently? Sudden changes in additude to any particular person, perhaps a teacher or coach?”

Durham was shaking his head negative but stopped, “there was his swim coach suddenly he stopp-“

Reid interrupted him his voice harsh and strong, it was the most confrontational that Gideon had ever seen him, “You did it didn’t you? What did you tell him he was a good little boy while you forced him to suck your dick? Did he beg you to stop? Did he?” Reid’s eyes are as harsh as his tone and Gideon is about to pull him out of the house for being so unprofessional when the father broke down sobbing and confessing.

Mrs. Durham stared in shock at her husband, “Fred? Fred is that true?” At Mr. Durham’s slight nod she gasped clear shocked, “how could you?” she whispered, “how could you do that to your own son, to our Billy?” She flew into a furry and started to flail wildly around trying to hit her husband.

Reid dragged the hysterical woman away and the father looked up eyes puffy and red-rimmed. “How did he know? No one knows. No one.” He whispered brokenly. Gideon offered no comfort to him, but rather stood over him like an angel of judgement, foreboding.

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“We have yet to confirm whether one of the victims were sexually abused, but it seems likely that he was. There’s been a variety of abusers, fathers, an uncle, a teacher, one coach, and one mother. The problem is that with many no one knew that the abuse was taking place. The question now becomes how did the unsub know?”

Reid had taken up his normal spot in front of the pictures of the children his back to the group, happy to let Gideon explain.

“A doctor?” Morgan suggests.

“No.” Gideon disagrees, “Many of the children had no physical signs of sexual abuse, and only two of them had the same pediatrician.”

“What about teachers?” Elle suggested.

“With the exception of the teacher that was committing the abuse only two suspected something. No, no one person connects these children together.”

“He just knows.” Reid’s voice was quiet but it resonated through the room.

“He just knows?” Grissom asked skeptical.

Reid, startled clearly he had just been thinking out loud. “Unsubs are often the best profilers. He can probably just look until he spots a child that he knows has been sexually abused. He was probably sexually abused himself as a child.” Something seemed to click in Reid’s head and he turned to Gideon, “We’re ready to give them a profile.” Gideon raised an eyebrow at Reid’s stealing of his line but let it slide.

Twenty minutes found them in a briefing room filled with detectives and CSIs. “The unsub is in his mid-twenties to late thirties. He was sexually abused as a child and has never really recovered from it. Something happened to him about two months ago, a big stressor in his life that brought this past trauma back. He’s suicidal, but can’t quite over come his fear of death. He’s probably got hesitation marks or a past history of overdose attempts.”

Reid activated the projector and put up a picture of the first victim, Tara Ingle sprawled on plush green grass and dressed in a simple white dress she looked like a fallen angel who would wake up at any minute. Reid’s softer voice replaced Gideon’s, “the unsub targets children who have been sexually abused in some manner. He feeds them, sedates them and then bathes and drowns them painlessly. He stuffs verbena in their mouths to cleanse them. He dresses them in new clothes and places them were children are usually seen as having fun. The unsub cares about these children. He pr-” Reid paused and cleared his throat, “He thinks he’s saving these kids. He’s giving them a peace that he longs for himself but is too scared to take. These killings will continue until he is caught or until he works up the nerve to kill himself.”

Hotch moved front and center and Reid blended into the background. “What we need to focus on here is what his stressor was: a death in the family, an assault to a loved one to himself. Also narrowing down the suspects, start looking at adults with history of child abuse in the past. This is a man that was functioning in society, he has a job, a home, pays his taxes and we need to find him before another child goes missing. We have a little over 48 hours, so lets move people!”

Gideon and Grissom watched from opposite ends of the room as Reid and Nick made eye contact and exchange looks in a silent conversation. A decision was reached but neither seemed happy about it. Curious Grissom’s eyes tracked Reid as he crossed the room and engaged in conversation with Gideon. He was therefore quite startled when Nick spoke behind him, “Grissom we need to talk.” Composing himself quickly Grissom gestured to an unused interrogation room.

“What is it Nick?”

Nick danced a bit nervously, fidgeting with his jacket zipper. When he finally did speak it was a quiet whisper and Grissom watched Nick’s down turned face closely to read his lips as well. “I-I wanted to let you know that I fit the profile. I-I was molested by my babysitter when I was nine. The, ah incident was more than two months ago, but I wasn’t exactly well enough to be up and around. Either way I should be removed from the case.”

Grissom placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Nick I trust you. I know you didn’t do this. There’s a time line for the kidnaping for the killings, we’ll find enough alibi to clear you to be back on the case. Hell, two weeks ago you pulled a string of doubles where you barely had time to sleep let alone kidnap and murder a young boy.”

“Thanks Grissom.” And if Grissom ignored the watery quality of the words then no one was to know.

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Reid watched Grissom watching him and smirked inwardly when Grissom jumped just slightly when Nick spoke behind him.

“Gideon. There’s a center that helps adults that were victims of abuse. It’s called Recovering the Past, on King St. That might be a good place to start asking around for possible suspects.”

Gideon nodded. “Okay take Morgan with you.”

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There was little in the way of conversation from Reid on the way to this center, ‘Recovering Childhood’. Terse one word answers greeted all of Morgan’s questions and Morgan decided not to push Reid who was wound tighter than Morgan had ever seen him. The building itself was in a dreary sort neighborhood with graffiti as paint and grates over the streetlights. The inside of the building was painted brightly with the wood floors of a gymnasium. One of the old basketball posts still hung there and a group of kids were playing a half court game. The other side of the court had a circle of chairs where adults were seated and talking quietly. One of them glanced up and saw Reid and broke off with a quiet word to the person next to her.

Morgan cast an appraising eye over the woman approaching. She wasn’t a classical beauty, jaw a little too strong, eyes a little too narrow, and frankly, she was more than a little too skinny for his tastes. Reid, at the sight of her, quirked his lips a bit of a smile and released a good portion of his pent up tension.

"Spencer!" The woman smiled warmly and it seemed to cast her features in a better light. She reached out and embraced Reid warmly, and Morgan was shocked to see Reid return it enthusiastically.

"Michelle."

"GodDAMN, Spencer, it’s good to see you! Next time don’t stay away for so long." Michelle pulled away from Spencer and eyed him up and down, "Dang, if you ain’t been eatin’ much. C’mon we’ll grab some cookies-"

"And milk?" Finished Morgan, looking puzzled but slightly smirking. Reid, realizing exactly how much he’s going to be teased about this, flushes a bit and breaks eye contact.

"Michelle this is Special Agent Derek Morgan. We’re here on business." The light and happy atmosphere deflated quickly after that, and Michelle had a suspicious gleam to her eyes.

"Spencer..." Michelle’s voice held a note of warning and question at the same time.

"Those kids that have been killed, the man, the newspapers are calling him the Angel of Death. Michelle," Reid’s voice is serious and quietly firm. "He was molested as a child. He might have sought help at some point but something happened recently about 2 or 3 months ago that stressed him into killing. We need the list."

"Spencer, you don’t know what you’re asking-"

"Yes. I do." Morgan had never heard Spencer that forceful. "Nick knows, too. This man, Michelle, he’s not a bad person. He needs help; we have to find him to help him. Please Michelle, I know exactly how each person on that list feels and I know that I want to help this man. Do you honestly think that I would ask if it wasn’t important?"

Michelle looked up into Reid’s pleading and serious eyes and knew that Spencer wouldn’t be here asking unless he really did need it. After all he risked exposing himself just as much as anyone else on the list. "Alright. Wait here."

Morgan watched the retreating woman for a second before turning to Reid. "So how long have you known Michelle?"

"About 5 years."

"Really 5 years?"

Reid sighed, "4 years, 9 months, 2 weeks and 4 days. So, yeah, really." The terseness of the words warned Morgan off, so despite his curiosity, he kept his mouth shut. The five minutes that passed felt much longer with the tension in the room.

Michelle approached the two with no hint of her former joy at seeing Reid. She handed him a sheaf of papers and practically glared. "Don’t ever ask me for this again and if it gets around that I gave this to you..." Reid flinched back from her glare. Her gaze seemed to soften a bit, "Just-just," she sighed loudly, "help this guy, okay."

Reid nodded jerkily seeming to take her words to heart. The hastily mumbled thanks might as well have not existed.

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Morgan and Reid arrived at the headquarters with little fanfare. While they were walking past the locker rooms Reid stopped, and once Morgan realized that Reid had fallen behind, he turned back to him.

"What’s up?" Morgan followed Reid’s gaze into the locker room where Nick Stokes sat slumped over in front of his locker.

Reid passed the sheaf of papers to Morgan. "Give these to Gideon. I’ll be along shortly."

Morgan hesitated briefly, long enough to watch Reid gently place his hand on Nick’s shoulder and see Nick lean into the touch. The look on Nick’s face when he looked up was..touching. Watery eyes that still managed to smile and the trust in them. Despite the fact that the only point of contact between the two was a hand on a shoulder Morgan still got the idea that the was intruding on a very private moment.

It was over fifteen minutes before Reid walked into the break room with Nick Stokes on his heels. Morgan wasn’t sure what they had said to each other, but there was a calmness about them both as if they had found a sort of peace with the world. Morgan suspected that it was the surety of knowing that someone had your back no matter what. Morgan had been watching the two close friends and honestly didn’t think there was anything sexual in the relationship just one of deep trust and understanding. From what Morgan had gathered Nick Stokes wasn’t considered a genius but neither was he considered stupid. Morgan knew that he would never really understand Reid, not completely. He’d always chalked it up to Reid’s insurmountable intelligence; it was slightly disconcerting to find out that this man just as smart as him understood Reid so throughly. It made him wonder what piece he was missing.

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Reid walked up to Gideon who was sorting through the papers, "How did you manage to get these Reid? Normally it takes a court order."

"I -ah know the coordinator. I convinced her that we would be discreet with the names. I -ah also promised her that when we catch the unsub that we would -ah help him."

Gideon’s head snapped around, "What!?"

Reid flinched back from Gideon’s tone but responded tightly, "You know that this man needs help. He’s not evil. He thinks he’s helping these children. You know that he shouldn’t stand trial."

Gideon looked indecisive and questioning but didn’t protest the statement. Reid knew better than to push his point, "Spencer, why don’t you help Elle? She’s been re-checking the autopsy reports."

Reid nodded slowly suspicious of Gideon’s actions but not protesting. "Michelle put the men that suffered a trauma about two months ago or stopped coming to the center at the top."

"Thank you." Gideon watched as Reid approached Elle and took half the files from the pile. Reid was too attached to the unsub, and for some reason he was sympathizing with him. Gideon didn’t think that it was that bad yet but he would do his best to minimize any contact that Reid might have with the unsub.

Gideon was back to sorting the list by priority when a name caught his eye. It was one of those quick glances where you catch a familiar word out of the corner of your eye, he quickly swung he gaze back and searched for the name that he hoped he had mistakenly seen. But it was real and now that he knew it made perfect sense. It all fit together in such a way that he wondered how he didn't realize before.

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Gideon walked over to Reid, breathing in and out evenly, forcefully. He took carefully measured steps and schooled his face appropriately. No reason to alarm anyone that anything was out of sorts. "Reid could I talk to you?" While Gideon’s voice was tight it was still well within the normal range for him.

Reid didn’t even glance up from the papers in his hands. "Yes?"

"Privately." This word was more terse and caused Elle and Reid to look up. Reid searched Gideon’s face intently.

"You’ve seen it?"

Gideon glanced around the room noting that only their team was in the room and relaxed slightly. "Yes. Why didn’t you tell me? You had to know I would see it."

Reid shrugged helplessly, a gesture rarely seen from the young man who had an answer or quote for everything, "I couldn’t find the words."

"This is where you met Nick Stokes." It was a statement but Reid still answered.

"Yes. Did Grissom tell you?"

"He informed me that he was working on proving an alibi. I told him it wasn’t necessary. Despite the fact that Nick fits the profile he didn’t do it." Elle watched the two with interest, not quite following the conversation but hoping that enough clues would be issued to put all the pieces together. The fact that Nick Stokes fit the profile was surprising and a big piece of the puzzle she was sure.

Now that the conversation was away from Reid’s personal involvement in the center he seemed much more comfortable and relaxed. "No, he didn’t do it."

"Who?" Reid honestly looked puzzled at the question. "Who caused you to go to the center?"

Reid flinched at the question and looked away, hesitant, "My uncle." Gideon inhaled quickly clearly trying to control himself. Reid hurried to reassure him. "It wasn’t that bad. He was often in prison for various misdemeanors. Besides by the time I was fourteen I was emancipated. It’s okay." Gideon frowned at the words.

"Reid don’t ever say that! You deserved better than that. You still deserve better." Reid’s small smile was more humoring than anything else. "Do you know these people?"

Reid shook his head negatively, "I don’t really get a chance to go to group much. Once Nick’s alibi checks out you should have him go over the list with you and point out the most likely." Gideon nodded slowly.

"Reid, you know you can always come to me?"

This time Reid’s smile was all genuine. "Yes. I know."

Gideon nodded thoughtfully and wandered back to his corner of the world.

Elle watched Gideon walk away and turned to Reid who had already turned back to the autopsies. "Reid, what was that about?"

Elle watched as the cogs in Reid’s head turned and she had no doubt that Reid was debating -- truth, lies or silence. apparently he had decided. "Nick and I met at the Recovering Childhood Center." Reid continued to stare intently at the folder in front of him, hair hanging in his face and obscuring his eyes. "My uncle molested me." Elle gasped quietly in shock but didn’t say anything. Instead, she slowly placed her hand over his that was clutching desperately at the files. His hand was warm and solid under hers even as it trembled slightly. Eventually, he looked up and met her eyes. She hoped that he could see that she didn’t judge him for his uncle’s sins. He seemed to have gotten the message when he grasped her hand back and squeezed. The silence that surrounded them was softer and more comfortingly filled with the understanding of a friend.

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It didn’t take more than an hour and a half to clear Nick Stokes for two of the times of death and three of the kidnaping. He was now sitting down with Gideon, going over the lists of names trying to narrow down the search.

"Reid told me about his uncle." Nick and Gideon were both intently reading the information and making notations about the people listed. Neither looked up from their hunched position.

"I knew he would have to eventually."

"It has to go in his record you know. They require things like that be put in every agent’s jacket. I’m surprised he got past the screening."

Nick was smiling and even though Gideon couldn’t see Nick’s face he could hear the smirk in Nick’s voice, "Do you really think there isn’t a psychologist out there that Reid isn’t capable of running rings around?"

"Perhaps. But he has yet to fool me completely."

Nick chuckled lightly under his breath. "You are a very special case. Especially with Reid."

Gideon nodded, but Nick didn’t have to see the nod to know it was there. If Gideon was worth his weight then he would know at least that about Reid. "What are your intentions with Reid?"

"My intentions?" Nick expelled a mirthless chuckle. "I intend to continue to be a good friend to Spencer and offer an ear. The more important question is: what are your intentions toward Spencer?"

Gideon started a bit at that and they both looked up and locked eyes. Gideon could see that Nick knew about Spencer’s little crush. Nick clearly wouldn’t be satisfied with no answer so Gideon begrudgingly replied, "I know about his crush. It has been a bit of an ego stroke, I must admit." Nick eyed him but didn’t interrupt. "I have no intention of leading Reid on or hurting his feelings about it. I’ve been trying to subtlety guide him towards someone else." Nick nodded approvingly and the atmosphere around them was much less tense now that they knew where each other stood.

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Grissom watched Nick and Gideon talking quietly to each other and couldn’t help the little flair of jealousy at seeing them working so smoothly with each other.

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It took several hours, but they had the list narrowed down to about 10 people which were divided up and each team sent on its way.

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The CSI team and BAU team were divided up with one BAU member and one CSI member per team. Sara with Morgan, Gideon with Catherine, Reid with Grissom, Greg with Hotch, and Nick with JJ. Gideon was the one to make the teams, and Grissom suspected it was a hand extended in peace -- far be it for him to turn it down. Each team took two names and proceeded to track them down.

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"So your specialty is obsessive crimes?"

Morgan glanced over to Sara who was sitting behind the wheel. "Yeah. Everyone offers a different perspective to the team. I have a sister who is completely obsessive compulsive. It’s not that hard to see similar patterns in the unsubs."

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Gideon turned to Catherine who was driving them to the first of their two suspects. "From my understanding you are the one that encouraged Nick Stokes to get help for his..childhood trauma."

Catherine raised an eyebrow, startled at such a personal inquiry. "Well, yes. After he told me about it on a case, I found a help center, Recovering Childhood, which, by the way, is one of the best in the country. You have to admire a place with such a great reputation that is still non-profit and provides free counseling."

Gideon watched the buildings blur past and wished for a world where such a charity was unnecessary.

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Reid openly stared at Grissom who was gripping the wheel intently and looked like he was going to break into a terrible road rage. "Nick told me that you have problems with kid cases. Everyone has their hot button. No one thinks less of you for feeling so strongly."

Grissom never took his eyes from the road, but his snort of disdain was clear enough. "Most of them have forgotten I have feelings."

"Because you don’t show them. You’ve trained them all to believe the evidence and follow what they see. You show them a man that has buttoned down all his emotions and preaches knowledge not emotion. What do you expect?" Grissom didn’t reply, and Reid left him to think on what he said.

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Greg was be-bopping behind the wheel of his car singing along to Modest Mouse’s 'Float On'. Hotch looked like he was barely containing himself from sticking his fingers in his ears.

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JJ watched as Nick deftly wove in and out of traffic. "I followed the Gordon case on the news. The short interview you gave was very well done."

Nick looked a bit confused at this line of conversation. "Uhhh, thanks?"

JJ grinned, and Nick couldn’t help but flash to Reid’s description of her from when they went to the Redskin’s game together -- all energy and blinding smiles. "Sorry. It’s actually my job, to deal with the media. The media can be one of our greatest weapons against the unsub. At least when used properly."

Nick nodded thoughtfully. "I know what you mean. I had reporters camped on my lawn for days. They didn’t do anyone a lick of good."

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Reid and Grissom had struck out the first try. Hopefully Ben Kincaid could prove more helpful. The two of stood on the stoop, waiting patiently for Ben to answer the door. Nothing in particular stood out about the house. The lawn was neat without being immaculate. The car was nice without being over done. Everything looked quite traditional and normal. Finally, a middle aged man answered the door and he was just as non-descript as his house. Short, somewhat brown hair, five ten and somewhere in-between handsome and ugly. "Yes can I help you?"

"Gill Grissom, Las Vegas Crime Lab."

"Dr. Spencer Reid, FBI. We need to talk to you about a somewhat private matter. May we come in?" Ben searched each of their faces, perhaps seeking their sincerity, and he must’ve found it because the door swung open and allowed them to enter. Just like everything else about Ben Kincaid, the interior was just as bland as the rest of him.

Reid listened with half an ear as Grissom questioned Mr. Kincaid -- he was much more interested in learning about him through what his possessions said about him. One photo on the self stood out in particular; it was of a younger Ben with a mulatto woman. This instantly set off warning bells in Reid’s head. Interrupting Grissom Reid asked, "Mr. Kincaid, who is this woman in the picture?"

Both looked a bit startled at Reid’s interruption, and a look of sadness flashed across Kincaid’s face. "That’s my sister. She died 9 weeks ago. Suicide." A brief look of alarm flashed across Reid’s face as he made eye contact with Grissom.

"Mr. Kincaid, would you be willing to come down to the station for further questioning?"

Kincaid seemed composed and calm. Reid was hoping that the scene wouldn’t have to get any worse than it had to. Kincaid made his way over to an end table, "No, Spencer. I don’t think that will be necessary." Kincaid turned around, "After all, the final peace is upon us. You wouldn’t want to miss out." Reid stared at the gun pointed him and thought rather absurdly, ‘damn, where is that universal kick me sign located anyway?’

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On the other side of town, Nick Stokes phone was ringing. "Nick Stokes." There was empty silence. "Hello? This is Nick Stokes?" Still silent. Just as he was about to hang up he hears a tinny voice come through the ear piece, and it sounds vaguely like Reid.

"Ben, may I call you Ben?"

"Spencer, is that you?" There’s no answer and at this point, Nick has a horrible feeling that something has gone terribly wrong. Putting the cell on speaker phone he gestured for JJ to listen.

"Ben. There’s no reason to keep us both here. If you-" Nick and JJ exchanged a look and Nick’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. JJ pulled out her phone and quietly called Garcia for a trace on Nick’s phone. Nick listened intently for a clue as to what the situation was.

"Ben calm down listen to me. I know that you weren’t trying to hurt those children. I know that you were giving them peace. I understand how desperately you want that. Believe me, I do." Nick’s heart was practically breaking in two listening to Spencer’s heartfelt plea. "I know that you don’t want to hurt Mr. Grissom here. He doesn’t understand, not like we do."

There was rustling and shifting, the sound of the door and JJ was telling him the address and calling the rest of the team. Nick’s heart was thundering in his chest. He couldn’t believe that this was happening, how he feared for Reid trapped with a suicidal serial killer and Gruesome Grissom. God save them all.

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The tight control that Ben had kept himself under was slowly eroding. Reid was in the untenable position of being unarmed and having a person with no qualms about killing between him and the door. His first goal was to get Grissom out of the door, despite the fact that Grissom was CSI he was still technically a civilian and therefore, his life was elevated priority one. Of course, he’d like to survive the encounter as well, preferably with Ben intact as well.

Grissom seemed a bit shocky. Perhaps he hadn’t had many encounters with gun toting killers. Of course, Reid could probably top quite easily whatever number it was -- his whole life had been a run of bad luck.

Ben’s wild eyes locked on Reid. "I knew the moment I laid eyes on you that you were like me. That you knew what suffering, true suffering was." Ben’s eyes rolled in his head like a crazed horse’s. "Tell me. Tell me who."

This time there was no mistaking that who. "My uncle." Reid watched Ben carefully and continued to talk, hoping that the cavalry was getting his message and coming soon. "He was a drunk like my parents." Reid laughs and it sounds so bitter it leaves a sour taste in his mouth. "Mom wasn’t always that way you know. But when I was three the schizophrenia flared up, and she started to drink to help control it. She wasn’t there mentally enough to stop it. She couldn’t protect me." Reid’s voice is quietly desolate and Ben is calmly slowly and inching closer. "I remember the smell of cinnamon schnapps on his breath. Goddamn eidetic memory."

Reid’s voice lowered even more drawing Ben ever closer. Reid’s eyes fluttered closed, either visualizing the memory or trying to block it out, it wasn’t clear. "I remember the burn of the thread bare carpet against my knees, the hand on my neck holding me down." Reid’s eyes fluttered open slowly, glistening and meeting Ben’s. "I remember the pain."

Ben nodded slowly, stiffly. "Yes. The pain is so clear, and always there. Come with me. Come with me, we’ll die together and be in peace."

Reid, faced with Ben, shook his head slowly no. "I can’t, Ben. I still have so much more to do. So many lives to save. Ben, don’t you want to continue to help people? Don’t they deserve your help?"

Ben’s eyes hardened just slightly, "I deserve everlasting peace!" Reid lunged forward and the two struggled with the gun, both gripping it tightly when it fired.

The sound of the gun shot seemed to shock the occupants of the house, but it galvanized the efforts of the agents and CSIs outside. Reid froze for a moment, startled at the sound and the stillness of Ben who was pressed against him. Ben’s fingers were lax on the gun so he carefully pulled it away from Ben’s grip and looked over Ben’s shoulder at Grissom who was wide-eyed and a little pale. Grissom dropped from his vision range and Reid grew unsure of what he was doing or whether Grissom was okay. Suddenly, Ben slumped into his arms and he was falling backwards unable to hold them both up. Pain rocketed through his right shoulder and radiated out to his chest and arm. Standing over him was a grim looking Grissom holding a stone bookend with blood on it.

Reid gently rolled Ben onto his back with the help of Grissom who was staring at him oddly. Reid blinked up at him, almost dizzy with all that had happened in the last few seconds. "Agent Reid, your shoulder?"

Reid moved his right arm tentatively it wasn’t broken but when he brought his left arm from his shoulder it was tacky with blood. Realizing that he had been shot made it hurt even more, and the world started to narrow, his vision going tunnel with only Grissom’s head clear. He watched Grissom’s lips moving but the sound wasn’t reaching his ears. He could clearly see the word help fall from the man’s lips, but Reid tried to tell him that he wasn’t going to be able to help anybody right then. Really, he just needed a nap and he’d be fine. Then there was a strong hand pressing on his shoulder that made pain shoot through him and a warm hand cradling his head. It was easier to ride the waves of pain into the darkness that lurked on the edges of his vision. After all, wasn’t he as deserving of peace as Ben was?

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Grissom heard the front door being busted in but didn’t turn from Reid, worried that the agent would slip unconscious while his attention is turned away. "Agent DOWN! We need medical help!"

Brass ran over gun lowered, but drawn at his side. "Kincaid?"

Grissom indicated with his head, "unconscious. Agent Reid has been shot. We need a medical team in here now!" Grissom pressed further on Reid’s shoulder, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood. Reid’s skin was looking translucent, and his lips were the same pale color of his cheeks. "Agent Reid, stay awake! Don’t go to sleep!" Reid’s eyes were fluttering closed and Grissom pressed again on the shoulder hoping that brief flair of pain might wake him up, and it did help momentarily -- Reid’s eyes bulged open and he groaned. Grissom didn’t even look up as Nick slid in beside him and urgently encouraged Spencer to stay awake. Grissom watched Reid’s lips move silently. Then, his eyes slid closed and wouldn’t reopen no matter how much pressure he put on the shoulder wound.

Nick turned to Grissom, eyes bright with tears. "What did he say?"

Grissom stared back at Nick concern written all over his face, "Don’t I deserve peace?"

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The hospital waiting room was rife with various law enforcement personnel. Agents drifted in clusters with CSI’s fringing the edges. Like a middle school dance one law enforcement agency on one side of the room one on the other.

Finally, a doctor in blue scrubs approached the impatient groups, "Jason Gideon?"

Gideon broke off from the pack, "That’s me." The doctor glanced around at all the people listening. Gideon shook his head, "it’s okay, their his family too." That wasn’t strictly true, of course, and some of the CSI personnel didn’t even know Reid well at all -- they were there in support of Nick.

"He pulled through the surgery just fine. He’ll need to wear a sling for a month to help the arm heal, but with physical therapy, he should get full function back."

The whole room breathed a collective sigh of relief. The doctor gave them all a pointed look. "He won’t be awake from the sedatives for several hours. I suggest you take the time to clean up." Looking down Grissom realized he was covered with blood, and Nick hadn’t faired much better. Nick wandered over to Gideon.

"Spencer has bad reactions to a lot of analgesics. He wakes up early sometimes, too."

Gideon nodded, "I was there when he got his wisdom teeth out and woke up during the surgery."

Nick nodded, "Classic Reid. Wakes up and verifies that he didn’t hallucinate and repeats the entire conversation verbatim." Nick laughs a bit and it doesn’t sound nearly as brittle as it did five minutes ago.

"Don’t worry. I’ll stay here. Get clean and changed and catch some sleep. One of us should be here when he wakes up."

Nick nodded, "thank you," and the suspicious gleam in his eyes passed unremarked on.

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True to form, Spencer went against form and woke three hours before anticipated. Gideon had managed to wrangle Nick into the ICU room with him. Both watched as Reid’s eyes fluttered open slowly. Suddenly shifting and gagging, Nick was there with an enmis basin and a supporting hand. Eventually, the dry heaving stopped, and Reid’s head flopped back down on the mattress, already exhausted. Nick helped him rinse and spit. "God I hate tramadol."

Gideon, who had paged the nurse to let her know Reid was awake, leaned down, "why do you think you’re on tramadol?"

Reid’s fingertips twitched a bit and his lips quirked into a small smile and Gideon felt his heart stutter a bit in his chest. Reid may be pale and hooked up to three machines with bags under his eyes to rival suitcases, but he was still there, and he was going to be fine. " Nausea, numb lips, tingling in my fingertips. Classic tramadol side effects. At least for me." The laugh that followed was dry and brittle but with genuine mirth as well. "Ben? Is he okay?"

"Grissom knocked him over the head with a bookend. He has a skull fracture, and he’s in a coma. He might never wake up."

A look of sadness passed over Spencer’s face. "Everlasting peace. Perhaps he’ll get his wish after all." Spencer whispered the last line, fading out quickly into sleep. Neither missed the passing wistfulness on his face.

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Two days and Reid was released from the hospital. Nick and Grissom had volunteered to drive the team to the airport. Nick and Spencer were off to the side talking quietly when they embraced gingerly. They broke apart and Spencer loped over toward Grissom.

"Dr. Grissom." Reid stuck out his left hand, Grissom took it and shook, "it was a pleasure to work with you."

"The same Dr. Reid."

Rather than let go of Grissom’s hand Reid leaned in still gripping it. "Dr. Grissom, you should tell him."

"Tell who?" Grissom asked in a puzzled tone.

Reid leaned in real close, "Nick. That you love him. I’ve seen how you look at him." Grissom was literally struck speechless, mouth agape. "I promise, Dr. Grissom, you won’t be disappointed." Grissom’s hand fell limply at his side and Reid walked off, a pleased little smile on his face.

Elle walked up to Reid, "what was that about?"

Reid looked at her with a cat that caught the canary grin across his face, "oh, just a little professional advice."

"What, forensically?"

"Oh no, as a psychologist." Elle glanced back at Gil Grissom and had to wonder, but life went on and sometimes you have to let the little mysteries go, no matter how familiar they might be.

Epilogue

It was two weeks before Reid came back to the office. He wouldn’t be back in the field until the sling came off. Reid always left by six which was unusual -- Reid was a classic work-alcoholic, but then, most of them were. Which is why Hotch took notice when Reid cursed. Loudly. Looking over, Hotch watched as Reid hurriedly shoved some papers into his satchel and rushed to gather the rest of his things. "Reid? What’s the hurry?"

"I’m going to miss the bus!" It was clear the frazzled young man didn’t mean to blurt out that answer. Aaron could have kicked himself. He should have known. The team had let Reid drive once, and only once. It wasn’t that he was a bad driver. Quite the opposite. Reid would always have his hands on the 10 and 2 position and never deviated. He always went just the speed limit and compulsively checked his mirrors every five seconds. Everything textbook and standardized. At the time, Hotch had put the safe driving to the fact that Reid would always remember the statistics behind auto accidents when he slid behind the wheel. Now Hotch suspected that Reid had taught himself to drive from a manual.

"Hey Reid why don’t I give you a lift home?"

Reid paused, probably debating the jarring pain of running for the bus versus possible questioning by Hotch. Slumping a bit, he agreed, and the little boy pout amused Hotch to no end.

The car ride was silent. Reid was resting his head against the window, eyes half closed -- he did look tired. There had been an unspoken pact to not talk about what everyone had heard went on in the Kincaid house. Either Reid was lying to draw the unsub’s attention and gain his trust or he was telling the truth. People were happy to believe whichever theory they wanted. Either way, no one asked Reid about it, and he slowly relaxed into the notion that things didn’t have to change at all.

"So," Hotch broke the silence startling Reid, "the secret to one-handed driving is hand placement." Reid watched wide-eyed as Hotch demonstrated by putting his left hand on the two o’clock position and turning smoothly to the left. Hotch drove one-handed the rest of the way.

Reid was ducking out of the car with a mumbled thanks when Hotch stopped him, "Reid. " Reid turned and faced the car. "You’ll be alright. We’re all proud of who you are, right now. Never doubt that." Reid only smiled a bit, just an upturn of one corner, but his eyes shined and Hotch knew he got the message. "So, why don’t I swing by and pick you up tomorrow?"

A wide grin broke across Reid’s face, "Nah, I think I’ll drive." And with that, Aaron knew that everything was going to be just fine.

The End (For Real)