Title:  Unfold 1/?

Author:  _nextboldmove_

Rating: FRT (story) P/SC/SV (case)

Fandom:  Criminal Minds (with mentions of Ghost Hunters)

Pairing: Het & Slash Hotchner/JJ, Reid/?

Summary:  Three weeks after 1, Reid goes back to work in an attempt to keep himself productive.  Between a busted knee and a broken heart, Morgan is afraid that he’s loosing his best friend.  Meanwhile, a case finally forces JJ and Hotchner to make a decision that changes the BAU forever.  From multiple character perspectives.

Comments:  oh pretty, pretty please???? I’m unemployed and I need something!

This is the third in the series, following ‘The Least Expected’ and ‘1’.  This story will have mentions of TAPS members from the crossover in the first two stories, but it’s mostly centered around Criminal Minds.  Congruently, there is a GH-centered sequel that is being posted over at Ghosthunters_ff.  They can be read together, but are also meant to stand independent of one another (ie, you don’t have to read ‘Unfold’ to understand what’s going on in ‘Side Effects’ and visa versa).

*This will mostly be centered around Morgan, Reid, Hotchner and JJ…mostly because the stories outside of the cases are about them.

~~~

Disclaimer:  I don’t own any rights or trademarks to Criminal Minds, the FBI, TAPS, Ghost Hunters, Sy-Fy, CBS or any of the characters within.  No infringements of these copyrights are intended.  Any similarities between original characters therein are a coincidence.  I make no profit from the following fictional story.  (Fictional, maybe, but I swear this happened all in my head).

~~~

9:00am, BAU at Quantico, VA

Dr. Spencer Reid

I can’t believe I got to ride the elevator alone.  That never happens at Quantico, not in this building.  It gives me time to tuck my hair behind my ears, adjust my bag, and take a deep breath.  Hotch came over last night and we had a long talk about me coming back.  How I should take more time off, considering my significant other was murdered.  The chain of command has been notified, and I’m sure the team is eagerly waiting to see me ‘back in the saddle’ even though over the past three weeks they have all stopped by at one point or another.

Nobody has brought up Dave Tango during their visits.

The door opens and I clutch the metal handles on my wheels and wheel myself right in—hitting the ‘handicap’ pad on the wall by the door.  They all pretend to be working or talking to each other, but I know they are just trying not to bring too much attention to me.  It isn’t until I clear my throat that Prentiss and Morgan turn around to greet me.

“Can someone move my chair so I can wheel to my desk?”

Morgan obliges, obnoxiously lifting it over his head and setting against the far wall.  I give him an ‘I’m okay, honest’ smile before pulling my bag off.  “Thanks.”

“When will you be able to hobble around like a zombie?” Prentiss asks.

“I’m allowed crutches but absolutely no weight on my knee for another week.  Then another surgery, another week of the chair and then hopefully I can start rehabilitation.”

“I’m getting you a cane,” Hotch comes up to us, patting my shoulder.

“A cane?”

“Intelligent men always use canes,” Hotch says.  “It’s a look.”

“And they smoke a pipe and have a mustache,” Garcia giggles as she comes up to the rest of us.  “By the way, nice beard.  I didn’t know you hit puberty yet.”

“Actually Garcia…”

“One’s mental acuity does not negatively correlate to his physiology,” Morgan says.  “It’s just a common myth that those with above average intelligence go through puberty later than peers of their same age.”

“Okay Reid number two.”  Garcia smiles.

“We can only handle one of you,” Hotch says before getting serious.  “Meeting room.  JJ has a case for us.”

I glance up the few steps, then look around and realize there is no way for a wheelchair to get up to the briefing room.  “Uhm, guys I can’t wheel up to the briefing room.”

“I can carry you,” Morgan offers.

“I still have some dignity,” I sigh, remembering having to call Morgan last week when I couldn’t climb out of the tub and how he swore up and down that he kept his eyes closed while he was lifting me out.  “I left my crutches in my car—I drove today.  Easier than trying to navigate public transportation.”  Truth is, I’m already feeling singled out and the less contact I have with ‘outsiders’ is for the best.  Other than a trip to the doctor, which Garcia insisted and taking me to, I hadn’t left my apartment since I got home.

Morgan reaches his hand out and I fish out my keys.

~

“Escanaba Michigan, three women brutally beaten, raped, and a staged public crime scene,” JJ hits a button on her remote and their faces splash across the screen.  “The first victim was Vicky Chandler, age 34.  Found at ten in the morning, June 12, in the alley behind her office building.”

“What does she do?” Morgan asks.

“She was a lawyer, just opened her own firm a few weeks ago in that building:  Chandler and Associates,” JJ turns back to the screen.  “She would take the back exit out and cut through the alley to get to the lot where she parked her car.  Her car hadn’t been touched or moved, but the ME said she had been dead for about ten hours when she was found.”

“All that violence in a back alley?” Rossi says.  “There’s not nearly enough blood to indicate that.  There isn’t any at all, this is just a dump site.”

I examine the photograph on the screen.  She’s clad only in her bra and ripped underwear.  Her hair is disheveled.  Her body is covered in bruises ranging from handprints around her arms to what are most likely kicks to her chest.  The large deep cut to her throat, the fatal wound, is gaping open and exposing the tissue and internal structure inside.  She has friction lacerations and bruising around her wrists and ankles that are striking to me.  “She was hog-tied.”

“How do you know?” asks Prentiss.

“See the wounds?  They are deepest on the anterior of her ankles and the posterior of her wrists,” I put my hands behind me to demonstrate.  “Those marks indicate pressure against the tissue, as when someone is ‘hog tied’.”

“JJ, June 12^th and we are being called in now?” Hotch asks.

“Police thought it was an isolated incident.  Then, on July 26 Tatum Stapf, age 30, was found inside her car in the parking garage where she worked.  Same wounds, also raped.”  Another image flashes on the screen, another woman clad this time only in a t-shirt, tossed in the backseat of her own vehicle.  I notice the same markings on her wrists and ankles.

“The backseat, why not posed in the driver’s seat?” Morgan asks.

“Time?  The unsub dumped her in a very public place,” Hotch adds.  “Did the locals still think these were unrelated.”

JJ nods.  “Tatum was a chemist for a pharmaceutical company.  But here’s what’s interesting.  She was last seen by her neighbor getting her mail in front of her house at approximately eight pm and her car was found in the parking garage of where she worked, all the way across town.”

“So the unsub took her in her own car,” I look down at the folder in front of me. 

“We should see if Garcia can hack into any traffic cameras.  This guy might have blown a red light and unless she’s in the tru…” Prentiss catches herself and looks at me.

I reach down and put my hand on my stomach, knowing there is still the brand underneath.  I keep debating whether or not to have the cosmetic surgery done to have it removed but that requires more pain.  More pain, more temptation to use.  “Still, we could get an ID on him.”

JJ flashes another case on the screen.  “Our third victim was this morning.  Angela Kinsey, age 34.  Found stuffed in her neighbor’s compost pile,” JJ flashes another image on the screen.  “I got the call right away this morning.  This one was different—they found the primary crime scene.”  Another image flashes up.  This time it’s a kitchen, the floor is covered in a tarpaulin, soaked with the victim’s blood.  “Her own home.”

“And he’s escalated, it was forty-four days between the first and second murders and now only fifteen days between the second and third,” Hotch adds.

“Angela Kinsey was a housewife who was recently divorced.  She won half of her ex-husband’s landscape business in the settlement and recently made some staff changes.  Her neighbor told police she intended to buy out her ex and keep him on as an employee.”  JJ takes a deep breath and looks to Hotch.  “Police are questioning all the employees and are keeping the ex husband in custody until we get there.  That is, if we are going.

“Wheels up in thirty.”  Hotch takes a deep breath.  “Let’s go.”

With Prentiss so politely handing me my crutches, I manage to get back to my workstation while the rest of the team scrambles to gather their things.  I settle back in my chair and close my eyes.  Maybe I wasn’t ready for this.  I’m already physically exhausted from having moved around more in the last hour than in the last three weeks.  The branded number on my stomach twinges as the nerves continue to re-establish connections to each other in the healing process, constantly serving as a reminder of what happened. 

Was I really in love with him, or if it was just me wanting to be in love?  If I was in love with him, I should have acted differently.  Maybe the novelty of having some semblance of a relationship was enough to confuse me.  I’ve had sexual encounters in the past, but nothing I would consider a ‘relationship’ nor have I ever really been out on a real date—JJ doesn’t count since it was really just a plutonic outing. 

If I loved him, I wouldn’t have killed him.

As Morgan starts packing things from his desk sloppily into his back, he flashes me a smile.  That’s the best relationship I’ve got:  he’s always there for me, will drop anything if I ask him for his help, and despite the fact he constantly teases me to keep his own ego in tact, I know he respects me and that I respect him.

As I get up and head to Garcia’s office, part of me really wishes he didn’t have to leave right now.

~~~~~

9:50, BAU at Quantico, VA

Agent Derrick Morgan

“Car leaves for the strip in five Morgan,” Hotch says, grabbing his briefcase and heading towards the elevator with Rossi, JJ and Prentiss.

“Be there in two,” I say, knowing I can’t leave until I’ve talked to Reid.  I turn the corner and find Garcia seated at her desk.  I see the custodian of the building setting up a folding table for Reid off to the left.  I give him a polite nods as he leaves.

“Hey Morgan, forget something?” Reid asks.

“Say, Reid, do you need anything from your work station?”  Garcia asks, seeing the hint in my eyes.  That’s my baby girl, so smart.

After Reid rattles off a list, Garcia disappears, leaving us alone.  “I know what you’re going to say, and yes I’ll be fine.  Sure, being stuck in here might be a little frustrating, but I think overall I can manage.  It’s only temporary after all.  The question I have for, Morgan, is if you’ll be okay?”

“Uhm…” I shake my head, speechless.  I guess over the past three weeks I’ve forgotten that Reid is not only a genius, but he’s also a profiler.  “Honestly?  I’ll wish I didn’t make you wait in the car back in Davenport.”

He looks down at his fingers, intertwining them in his lap.  “I shouldn’t have run off without backup.”

“It’s the Reid effect,” I manage to snicker, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Let’s see, I’ve been taken, drugged, held hostage by a football player in the woods, tackled by you, held hostage again at gun point, had Hotch kick the crap out of me, held hostage yet again on a train, drugged by a an archangel, held hostage…I’ve been a hostage too many times to count,” he keeps babbling, “got myself infected with Anthrax, kidnapped yet again but this time I was branded and rap…” he stops.

He never said it before.  I suspected that’s what happened, but then part of me hoped that we had gotten there before Roger Felix…in his files on the case, he didn’t report being raped.  I feel even worse and I’m sure it shows in my face, but I’m not going to say anything unless he says something else about it first.

He recovers from his revealing statement and snickers awkwardly.  “Just go.”

Just as I leave, Garcia comes down the hall with a box of Reid’s things.  “Garcia, take care of my boy in there, alright?”

She smiles.  “Your wish is my command, Prime Choice.”

“Prime Choice?”

“As in USDA Prime Choice meat,” she giggles.

I give her a peck on the cheek and a pat on the back on my way out, not having to see her to know that her face is as red as her lipstick.

~

About an hour later…

“Okay,” Hotch comes back from the lavatory.  “We’ve had time to look through the files and we’ve got about two hours before we land, what are we thinking?”

“The victims are early thirties, but different body types, different jobs, hair color…it seems like their physicality isn’t what the unsub is after,” I suggest.

“Maybe he doesn’t know what physicality he likes,” Rossi says.  “Or perhaps location or something about their belongings, the way they dress is what he’s targeting.”

“We got Garcia and Reid,” JJ says, turning the laptop to face us all.

“Hey there pumpkins,” Garcia says.  “I did some looking around and it doesn’t seem like they had any financial hanky-panky going on.  Save for a few parking tickets, a speeding ticket and a minor consumption, there aren’t any immediate red flags.”

“Minor?” I ask.

“Tatum Stapf in college, caught at a keg party when she was twenty.”

“Keep digging,” Hotch says.  “Reid, geography?”

“So far I don’t have much, other than the comfort zone of our unsub seems to be most of the town.  I took into account…Garcia can you send them the image?” he looks to her before his face disappears and a map takes its place.  “Vicky Chandler was found downtown and Tatum Stapf was found at Lexoll Pharmaceutical labs which are just outside of town.  Now what’s interesting is that the homes of both victims are between both businesses, but Angela Kinsey’s home is clear on the other side of town.  Garcia, can they see me?”

“Hold on,” I hear her voice and the map goes away.  “Just hit this button to switch back and forth.”

He nods awkwardly and turns to face the camera.  “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Yeah, check to see if there are Italian restaurants or pizzaria’s within the geographical profile.  We think our unsub may have a ritual meal before he kills.”

“Provided he doesn’t make his meals at home, I can look into it.”  He tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ears.  “How am I doing?”

“Let Garcia handle the tech and you just work that brilliant mind of yours and we’ll be home before you know it,” I say with a smirk before we part ways and turn off the video feed.

“Morgan, when we land you and Prentiss head to the new crime scene,” Hotch settles back with his case file open in his lap.  “We’ll go to the station and set up camp, Rossi, talk to the ex-husband while I meet with the lead on the case and then we’ll go check out the law office and Lexoll.”

Title:  1   6/6

Author:  _nextboldmove_

Rating: FRM-P/SC/GV *Rape, torture, mutilation*

Fandom:  Criminal Minds/Ghost Hunters

Pairing: Het & Slash Hotchner/JJ, Reid/Dave Tango (Ghost Hunters)

Summary:  Six months after ‘The Least Expected,’ TAPS and the BAU are in the same place at the same time, if only for an evening.  But when the local PD catches the wrong guy, one of the Ghost Hunters must pay the ultimate price.  From multiple character  perspectives.

Disclaimer:  I don’t own any rights or trademarks to Criminal Minds, the FBI, TAPS, Ghost Hunters, Sy-Fy, CBS or any of the characters within.  No infringements of these copyrights are intended.  Any similarities between original characters therein are a coincidence.  I make no profit from the following fictional story.  (Fictional, maybe, but I swear this happened all in my head).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Agent David Rossi

When we pull up, Kyle is sitting on the ground, back against the trailer.  About five feet to his left is a rifle.  He puts his hands up when Detective Kendall approaches him with his gun drawn.

“Where is he?”  I ask Kyle, afraid that I already know the answer.

“He was coming for me, yelling ‘it only takes one’…” Kyle cries as he’s handcuffed.  “He said it was all my fault, that I selfishly ruined so many lives and that it was my turn to pay.  So I hit him, then grabbed his hunting rifle just to scare him…” he looks me in the eye.  “I didn’t know it was loaded.”

Instantly I know he’s lying---Kyle figured out his brother was our unsub and shot him when he came home.  But considering…a jury might buy his story.  I just nod as Detective Kendall takes him to the squad car.

I see Morgan emerge from the trailer, gun holstered.  “It’s over.”

“I just wish the son-of-a-bitch was alive so I could kick his ass,” Prentiss says.

“You guys go back to the hospital, give Reid the news, I’ll finish up here,” Hotch offers.

~

Reid gets choked up at the news.  “Does Dave’s family know?”

Morgan nods.  “Prentiss is talking to them right now.”

“I want to see Tango’s family, take me to the station.”

“You’re stuck in bed with that knee man,” Morgan says.  “You can’t leave right now.”

“Fuck that,” Reid says.  Reid swearing?  I guess in light of everything…this is just another thing that we might have to get used to.

I take the chair next to him.  “I suppose your Mom doesn’t know.”

“I think she always postulated I was gay.”

“I was talking about your injuries.  Or about Tango.”

He shakes his head.  “I never told her about him, I guess now isn’t a good time to start.”  He points to his knee.  “I might just tell her I hurt my knee dancing or something.”

I snicker.  “Dancing, Reid?”

“I don’t dance, so the very fact that I could hurt myself attempting such an act of physical dexterity and coordination would lend to an injury, yes.”

“You would hurt yourself dancing.”  Morgan says.  He looks to me and then to Reid.  “Reid I’m staying here with you until you can come home.”

“Morgan…”

“That’s not a question or a request, it’s a statement of fact.  Hotch ordered me to.”

“No he didn’t,” suddenly Reid’s voice gets small, scared even.  Like he’s remembering all over again that Dave Tango is gone.  “You’re just saying that.”

I stand up.  “I’ll head back to the station, I’ll give Bruce Tango your sympathy.”

Eleven men abducted.  Three dead.  Eleven families struggling to accept a loved one, understand them, perhaps even understand themselves.  A brother who will most likely walk for doing the unthinkable.  But here I see one of the most amazing people I know still alive.  Friends, family and co-workers who seem more than supportive. 

It still seems like that this time, the unsub won.

~~~~~

ONE WEEK LATER

Dr. Spencer Reid

“I can’t believe I get to finally see your place,” Morgan says wheeling me off the elevator and towards my apartment.

“It’s nothing special.  Lots of books, stuff all over the place,” I shrug.  “I have a TV but I don’t have cable.  It has an antenna but I haven’t had the time to get a digital conversion box since the switch,” I dig in my messenger bag for my keys as we stop in front of the door.

“Here,” Morgan takes my keys and fumbles with them before successfully unlocking the door.  He wheels me in and turns on the lights. 

“Someone broke into my apartment,” I say.

“What?”  His eyes get big.  “I meant that someone came in, cleaned up and left those flowers on the kitchen table.”

He walks over to them.  “JJ did.”  He brings me the note.

Reid, I did everything but wash your underwear—call Garcia if you need help with that.  Enjoy your time off.  Call if you need anything.  JJ.  Suddenly glad I gave her a spare key in case the worse should happen, I set the note down on the coffee table to my left and wheel myself into the kitchen.  Well, kitchenette.

“She stocked the fridge too,” Morgan says, closing the door and turning around.

It’s been a long time since he’s worn suits on a regular basis.  He looks good.  But he doesn’t look like himself.  I look down at my own suit, a rumpled mess.  I lost weight since Davenport a mere week ago.  But when I lose five pounds, it’s noticeable.  This is the first time I’ve been home—had to change at the hospital and take the first flight straight to Jersey for Tango’s service and then Morgan just rented a car and drove me straight home.

The whole BAU team was there.

“Hey, Reid…” Morgan comes up to me, kneeling down to put a hand on my good knee.  “I’m so sorry.”

I just nod, reaching up to wipe more tears from my eyes.  “I don’t even know if I miss him more than I feel responsible for all those friends and family having to bury him today.  I lived almost my whole life without Dave Tango, I’ll figure out how to go on.  What if they don’t?  Why should they have to…well, it’s because…” I stop, pushing Morgan’s hand off my knee.  “I’m tired.”  I begin to wheel myself down my suddenly too narrow hallway to my bedroom, Morgan following behind.  I notice JJ also changed my sheets and made my bed, and before I can get to it Morgan rushes ahead of me and turns down my side. 

Smiling just a little, I put the breaks on my chair and hop into bed—a movement I’m getting much, much better at.  I guess I’m not too terribly uncoordinated after all.  “Morgan, uhm, can you hand me a set of pajamas from the bottom drawer?”

He nods and does so, finding my favorite pair—oddly enough—a very worn matching set with black Scotty terriers on them.  “Here.”

“Those are my favorite, my mom bought those for me when I earned my first PhD.  She found them in a catalogue and for some reason thought that a doctor of chemistry would like Scottish Terriers.” 

“Do you want me to wait outside?”

I nod, so he goes into the hallway and closes the door behind him.  Getting my tops off are easy enough, but I almost fall off the bed when I try to take off my pants and put on my pajamas.  With a bit of effort I manage, calling for Morgan when I’m done.

After he props a pillow under my knee, he grabs my suit off the floor and drapes it over the dresser.  “I’ll take it with mine to the cleaners tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” I say, knowing that after a week of him in my hospital room damn near all the time it’s best not to argue with him.  It took three nights before I could make him go back to the hotel for sleep in a real bed.  Thinking he might repeat his performance, I clear my throat.  “You don’t have to stay here.”

“It’s Friday, I don’t have to go back until Monday.”  He goes up to a bookshelf and starts to look through them.  “Any of these any good?”

“I think you’d like the Sherlock Holmes on the bottom shelf.”  I yawn, letting my eyes close.  “I have a surgery in two weeks, it’s going to be months before I can walk on this again,” I open one eye to see him pawing through a hardcover copy of Hound of the Baskervilles.

“You won’t be bored for too long, after your three week leave Hotch said you can work at the office with Garcia,” his eyes don’t leave the book.  “That is, if you come back.”

“I’m not leaving the BAU,” I sit up, both eyes open.  “I’m taking my three weeks, going to the mandatory psych meeting, and coming back to work.  And no, I’m not coming out to Dr. Plaines nor am I telling her about my relationship with one of Roger Felix’s victims.  Hotch specifically told me that my relationship with him was not included in the official federal report.”

“You won’t lose your job for being gay,” he closes the book and comes to the bed, sitting on the edge of the opposite side and setting the book down between us.

“That’s not it.”

He swallows.  “We need you to take all the time you need and know that we…”

“…all love me and are here for me.”  I lay back down.  “I know.”

“Mind if I borrow this?” I know Morgan is gesturing or holding up the book.

“It’s a limited edition print, it doesn’t leave my apartment.  But you can read it here.”  I open one eye.  “There’s extra linens and a pillow in the hallway closet.  Help yourself.”

I close my eyes and get comfortable.  As much of a front as I put up against wanting my privacy, I’m really glad Morgan is here.

~~~~~

Two Hours Later…

Agent Aaron Hotchner

I should go home, it’s already nine.  After the funeral, most of us drove back to Virginia together and then I came back here to the office while Garcia, JJ, Prentiss and Rossi went home.  I’ve been staring at a computer screen for four hours, itching to call Morgan to see if he and Reid are still in New Jersey, if they are going to spend the night, if I should give Morgan a few more days off.

“Weird huh?”

I look up to see Garcia in my door way.  “What are you doing here?”

“Checking to see if you are here,” she smirks.  “Everything seems weird.  Like it shouldn’t be different, and yet it is, and yet it isn’t.”  She moves closer to my desk, armed with her large brightly colored handbag.

“What do you mean?”

“Reid.  We all have our little private lives and it just, feels off when some of that information leaks to the rest of the team, ya know?”

I nod.  “I know.  But I don’t think it lessens anyone’s opinions or feelings about him.”

“Not at all, I’m just saying,” she sighs.  “I’m on my way home to curl up on the couch and watch Univision with a punch bowl full of lime juice and tequila.  You?”

“I’m going home, I might swing by Reid’s place just to see if they came back yet.”

“Watch it Hotch, sitting in your car outside someone’s home waiting for them to get back can be misunderstood as stalking,” Garcia smiles.  “I saw you talking to Bruce Tango today.”

I nod, “he was extremely grateful for all that we did.”

“That Steve guy didn’t seem so.”

“I’m glad Morgan stayed with Reid, because Steve is still very angry.”  I get up.  “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”

~

Seeing his living room light on, I park my car and head up, wondering what I plan on saying or doing when I get there.  I knock on the door a second time before I hear the lock turn and the door open. 

It’s Morgan, wearing sweat pants and an old gym tee, holding a book.  “Hey Hotch.  Reid’s sleeping.”

I let myself in and close the door behind me.  When I turn around, Morgan’s already seated himself back on a pull-out couch sloppily made with mismatched linens.  “What are you reading?”

“Sherlock Holmes,” he takes a bookmark and marks his place, setting the book down.  “One of Reid’s.”

I take a seat on the armchair.  “How long did you stay?”

“We got back at about six thirty, he went to bed by seven.  I don’t think Reid knew his couch was a sleeper, I found an old Playboy when I pulled it out.”

I smile slightly.  Even if he was straight, the idea of Reid looking at pornography seems odd with me, despite the fact that I’m sure he has.  “How’s he doing?”

“Fighting me staying and yet at the same time he didn’t really want me to leave.  Feels guilty over the pain his friends and family are going through and he can’t wait to get back to work.  Oh, and he’s not going on record with his sexual orientation.”

“Talking about him while he’s asleep in the other room, he wouldn’t like this much.”

“I’m only telling you what I think you need to know,” Morgan sighs.  “I think after his three weeks, getting back to work will be what he needs.  He’ll need the mental focus, to use his brain and get back into something of a comfort zone.”

“How do we keep an eye on him to make sure he’s managing okay without hovering?”  I swallow, fiddling with my fingers in my lap.  “Is he taking any medication?”

“An antibiotic from the surgery, but he made a big fuss at the hospital about refusing the Vicodin.”  Morgan’s voice is low in understanding.  We never outwardly spoke about Reid’s drug abuse—save for me talking to Gideon—but that doesn’t mean the rest of the team didn’t figure it out.  “He’s been taking ibuprofen, and not in excessive amounts.  In fact, he went on for quite a long time about how ibuprofen is one of the most commonly abused over-the-counter drugs and is now considered as a culprit for irritable bowel syndrome since its negative side effects rarely reverse even after the person has stopped taking the medication.”

“You know, spending all this time around him might make you smarter.”  I gesture to his book.  “You’re reading his books.”

“If I show up to the office in glasses and sweater vests promise me you’ll stage an intervention,” he laughs quietly.

“I promise.  Call if you need anything—I can do some maneuvering and give you an extra day off if you think you’ll need it.”

“We’ll see, thanks Hotch.”

~

When I get home, I crawl right into bed and stare into the dark.

I find myself thinking of what Kyle Felix said his brother Roger told him right before he shot him ‘in self defense.’  Of course that put the significance of the brand into perspective, but it ran so much deeper than that.  One.  One person, one event, maybe even one word.

It only takes one.

FIN

~~~~~

*For my GH fans…the next sequel will be just Criminal Minds, with mentions of the TAPS/GH team.  If you want to read it, head over to bau_fic because I won’t post it at ghosthunters _ff anymore. 

Title:  1   2/6

Author:  _nextboldmove_

Rating: FRM-P/SC/GV *Rape, torture, mutilation*

Fandom:  Criminal Minds/Ghost Hunters

Pairing: Het & Slash Hotchner/JJ, Reid/Dave Tango (Ghost Hunters)

Summary:  Six months after ‘The Least Expected,’ TAPS and the BAU are in the same place at the same time, if only for an evening.  But when the local PD catches the wrong guy, one of the Ghost Hunters must pay the ultimate price.  From multiple character  perspectives.

Disclaimer:  I don’t own any rights or trademarks to Criminal Minds, the FBI, TAPS, Ghost Hunters, Sy-Fy, CBS or any of the characters within.  No infringements of these copyrights are intended.  Any similarities between original characters therein are a coincidence.  I make no profit from the following fictional story.  (Fictional, maybe, but I swear this happened all in my head).

***IRL, I don’t think Dave Tango’s mother is dead, but in the story she is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Agent Aaron Hotchner

I stand up when I see two plain-clothes coffee shop employees come into the back room.  The manager called them in and we’re interviewing them in the back.  “Thanks for coming, I’m SSA Hotchner and this is SSA Prentiss, we’re with the FBI.”

“What did Frank think we did now?” A young black woman, maybe 19 or 20, stands with her oversized pink purse clutched to her side.  Her hair is pulled back into some sort of ponytail.  Her jumpsuit matches the purse and the bright lipstick on her lips.

“It’s not about you,” Prentiss says calmly.  “This morning, about five-thirty or so, two men came in here for coffee.  They weren’t together but they knew each other, it would have looked like a friendly reunion.”

“One of them was tall, long light-brown hair, dressed professionally, ordered coffee but with extra sweetener and added an excessive amount at the condiment station on his own.”  I show both girls a picture of Reid.

The black girl shakes her head while the white girl, dressed plainly in jeans, a yellow shirt and brown purse looks carefully at the photo.  “No, but I saw this guy walking across the street the other day.”

I nod.  “He was staying at the hotel, are you sure he never came in here?”

She shakes her head.  “Nah, I woulda known.  I thought he was cute and I was hoping I’d be the one to make his coffee.”

“What about this man?”  Prentiss holds up a photograph of Dave Tango.

“The Ghost Guy!  They came in a few days ago for coffee when I was working the night shift,” the black girl says.  “On their way to a case or some shit.”

“Steve is way hot too,” the white girl smiles.  “He signed my check stub.”

“What about Tango?  Was he here this morning?”  I ask sternly.

They both shake their heads.  “No way.”

“Thanks, you can go.”  Prentiss says.

I walk out of the shop and back to the SUV with her on my heels.  “What do you make of this?”

I get my seatbelt on and start the engine, waiting for Prentiss to buckle up before moving.  “Reid’s hiding something from us.”

~~~~~

Agent Morgan

I cross my arms in front of me, not sure what we could have missed.  This is where the first victim was left—in the back alley of a restaurant only blocks from his home where he reported being taken from the driveway.  “Why here?”

“Why any of the drops?” Reid says on a shaky voice.  While I understand the shock of talking to someone a mere moment before they become a victim is tough, I feel like he should have gotten over the shock of it by now.  “All so close to where the victim was reportedly taken.”

“That way if the victim managed to stumble around they might be able to find where they were?”  I ask, staring at a very dirty dumpster.

“Maybe the drop site has more importance for the unsub,” Reid paces nervously—even more nervous than he usually is.  Like he drank a gallon of coffee and a bag of sugar ten minutes ago and it’s all kicking in at once.

“Close to the same spot, marked with a brand of the number 1, mutilated, and outed.  He’s returning them but not the way he took them.”

“That’s why he takes them to a slightly different spot, because they are still themselves but not really.”  Reid grabs a notepad out of his messenger bag and starts jotting things down, something else he doesn’t always do.

“You okay Reid?”

He looks up at me and nods.  “Yeah, yeah sure.”

“It’s just that you and this kid are friends and you were the last person to see him.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I just want you to know that if you want to talk…”

“Morgan, I know.  I get it.  I’ve got to find him.”  He moves past me.  “We need to go back to the station, look at the files again.  There are more connections we missed.  There has to be.”

I’ve got to find him is what he said.  He’s not okay but at the same time if I keep pushing I’m just going to push him away.  I just got to watch out for him.  Just then my phone rings and I look at the caller ID before answering.  “Hey baby girl tell me you got something.”

“Morgan.”  There’s that hint of worry in her voice that tells me things are not good.

“Did you get a trace on that video?”

“Uhm, no, just like the others it was sent from the victim’s cell and then the phone was turned off.  It’s the previous calls that are interesting.”

“What do you mean, did he have contact with any of the other victims?”  I watch Reid pace nervously through the alley, looking for anything that could help.

“Dave Tango’s cell phone has been making calls to and receiving calls from Reid since that case you worked in Sticks.  A total of eleven between the two—looks like Reid would call first, then a bit later Dave Tango would call back.”

“When was the last call?”

“Last night.”

“Can you do me a favor?  Contact the producer for their show, find out where they have been since Sticks, every hotel, motel, investigation—dates, times, addresses, get it all.”

“And correlate it with the phone calls?”

“I owe you something pretty and pink.”

She giggles.  “Garcia out.”

I close my phone and ponder what I should do.  Confront him?  I only risk pushing him away.  He’s not our unsub, he can’t be.  But he lied about contacting Tango, and I’m guessing that while they met at the coffee shop this morning, they had arraigned it last night.  Before I get a chance to confront him I get a call from Hotch.  “Morgan.”

“You with Reid?”

“Yeah.”

“Get him back to the station now, don’t let on that it’s because of him, tell him we got another clue or something.  But don’t let him out of your sight.”

“Got it.”

Just what the fuck did Reid get himself into?

~~~~~

Agent Jareau

“What does the ‘1’ mean?”

I turn around to see Steve standing by the board, where I have been pinning up all the files and photos again.  Hotch said that he was allowed to be part of the investigation—I think after that case in Sticks he trusts him.

“We suspected the ‘1’ was a count, but all the victims have the same brand.  The best we figured was that it was his signature, which is what led us to Jiles Oswalt.”  I point to his photo on the wall.  “When he was in prison, his nickname was ‘1’.”

“Why?”

I shrug.  “When we arrested him he wouldn’t talk.  Still hasn’t.”

“How the hell did you find him?”

“His DNA was on the victim’s clothing.”

“Circumstantial.”

I don’t know what to say.  “The PD closed the case, what else…”

“I dunno, make sure you have the right guy?”

Before I can defend my team, Hotchner and Prentiss return.  “JJ, can you go into the other room?  When Morgan and Reid get here, send Reid in, alone.”

“What’s going on?”  I ask.

He gives me his harshest of looks.  “JJ, just do it.  Get Steve something to eat.”

I nod and take Steve out with me.  Once in the hallway he stops.  “What is going on?”

I shake my head.  “You need to eat something.  I should get food for the whole team, will you help me?”

“I guess.”  He looks defeated.  “I should thank you for allowing me to be a part of this.”

“Until his family gets here you are our best link into his life.”

“Yeah right.”

Just then Rossi and the main Detective on the case walk past us, followed by Morgan and Reid.  “Hey Reid, Hotch wants to see you in the conference room.  Needs your help on the map.”

Reid wordlessly moves ahead and Morgan connects eyes with me as I leave with Steve.

~~~~~

Agent Hotchner

I close the door behind Reid, knowing the rest of the team is watching from the office next door through the one-way glass.  Normally I would be wary of compromising a team member’s privacy, but this is different.  “Reid, tell me exactly how you ran into Tango this morning.”

His eyes get wide.  “At the coffee shop, I gave him my number…”

“Spencer.  You know Garcia’s already checked his phone.  You’ve been in contact with him since Sticks.  You called him last night.  You didn’t run into him at the coffee shop.  You have to tell us what really happened.”

“You think I’m…”

I shake my head.  “I know you’re not the unsub.”

He sits down and literally breaks down in tears.  I’m shocked at this outpouring of emotion and I don’t know what to do.  Why did I send JJ away?  She is so good at this sort of thing.  “R..Spencer.  What’s going on?”

“I’m…I’m gay…” he chokes on his sobs.  “Back in Sticks Dave and I…we slept together and we’ve met up a few…times…since then.”  He wipes his face on his sleeve.  “We met up last night.  He left my room at 5:48 this morning.  We argued over him wanting…wanting to come to DC for the…next few weeks and I said no because I see all of you struggle with interpersonal relationships…and he got mad and said not to call him again and he left.”

I can’t believe I never thought Dr. Spencer Reid was gay.  I just never really thought of him as a sexual being.  I reach over the table and offer my hand in a move that shocks us both.  But he takes it anyway.  “Reid, I was in the lobby getting coffee at quarter to, I never saw him.”

 “I told him to wait until we left for the jet so you wouldn’t see him.”  Reid’s face pauses.  “Is there a private entrance…maybe out back or through the kitchen?”

I turn to the glass and motion the team inside.  Prentiss, Morgan and Rossi come in, followed by Detective Kendall.  “Rossi, you and Detective Kendall go back to the hotel, find every way in and out of that place.”  My cell phone buzzes with the notice of a file from Garcia.  “Prentiss, come with me.  Garcia just sent me a list of every place TAPS has been and we need to make some phone calls.  Morgan, you and Reid stay in here.”

“And do what?”  Reid asks.

I let go of his hand and stand up.  “Take some time to calm down.  We’re going to find him Reid.”

“What…what about…”

I shake my head.  “Morgan, keep an eye on him, please?”

He nods.

~~~~~

Dave Tango

It hurts.  This time he unties me.  I try to fight back, but I’m too weak.  He binds me spread eagle on a mattress in a dark room.  This time on my back.  The cuts and burns hurt.  My eyes well up with tears.  So much pain.  Snapping, cracking.  Hot blood running down my arm.  I scream but the tape makes it hard to make a sound.  I have to control my crying, because my nose is clogging and I can barely breathe.

I feel him climb on top of me, he forces himself inside me again.  I think I called out for my mom, but I’m not sure.  She died when I was a kid.  Why would I call out for her now?  Mom…

It goes black.

~~~~~

Preview of Chapter 3:

I know exactly what I want right now, but I doubt I even have the energy to go out and seek it.  Morgan wouldn’t let me leave the room alone anyway—although I’m sure that’s more about keeping me from getting kidnapped than keeping me from finding Dilaudad.  Maybe not in Davenport, I might have to settle for heroin.  It’s not the same—close but not the same. 

 Title:  1   1/6

Author:  _nextboldmove_

Rating: FRM-P/SC/GV *Rape, torture, mutilation*

Fandom:  Criminal Minds/Ghost Hunters

Pairing: Het & Slash Hotchner/JJ, Reid/Dave Tango (Ghost Hunters)

Summary:  Six months after ‘The Least Expected,’ TAPS and the BAU are in the same place at the same time, if only for an evening.  But when the local PD catches the wrong guy, one of the Ghost Hunters must pay the ultimate price.  From multiple character  perspectives.

Disclaimer:  I don’t own any rights or trademarks to Criminal Minds, the FBI, TAPS, Ghost Hunters, Sy-Fy, CBS or any of the characters within.  No infringements of these copyrights are intended.  Any similarities between original characters therein are a coincidence.  I make no profit from the following fictional story.  (Fictional, maybe, but I swear this happened all in my head).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dave Tango

I wake up, my eyes opening lazily to the small glow of the bathroom light left on.  The digital clock on the night stand reads 3:21am.  I reach down to gently pet the foreign hand on my bare chest, turning ever so slightly to nuzzle with its owner, Spencer.

In the six months since we’ve met, we’ve been able to have these rendezvous only about four times—and last time was stretching it since I had to drive an hour out of my way to see him.  We don’t talk on the phone—he follows Jason and Grant on Twitter to see where we are and calls me if he’s there too.  Tonight, we are both in Davenport, Iowa.  In the same room.  Together.  And I don’t want to fall back asleep because I don’t want to miss this, as cheesy as it sounds.

“Hmmm,” Spencer sighs in my ear.  “This is nice.”

“Yeah,” I whisper, enjoying the warmth of our bare skin connecting underneath the hotel bedspread.  “Too bad you have to leave so early.”

“I have a lecture back at Quantico.”

“Can you sleep on the jet?”  I prop myself up on an elbow, grabbing a fistful of his now-much longer hair.  “It’s been nearly two whole months since I saw you last and I don’t want to waste this time sleeping.”

“Can I tell you something first?”  He wraps his arms around me.  “My boss, Hotchner, JJ…I watch them all try to have relationships but the job wins every time.  The reason I don’t call is because I’d much rather have these rare encounters and remember you this way rather than try to maintain some sort of relationship only to break up and have all those negative emotions associated with you.”

I lean in for a needy kiss, knowing its best not to argue with him.  If he gets going, he’ll talk until he turns blue in the face and I’ll have filled a notebook with words to look up the meanings of later.  “Now let’s do something worth remembering.”

“Something that will last us two more months?” he snickers, reaching over for the bottle of lotion on the night stand.

~

“Dave?  Come on, I gotta go.”  Spencer shakes me awake.

Begrudgingly, I climb out of bed and put on my clothes, which are still on a pile on the floor near the door.  I hear water running in the bathroom and through the open door I see Spencer brushing his teeth.  He’s already dressed.  I look at the clock—5:45.

“The team is going to meet in the lobby so maybe you should stay here until after six,” Spencer comes out, armed with his personal care products in plastic bags. 

The team doesn’t know about him, nor does my team know that I’m with him.  “You still don’t want them to know?”

“When you work with people whose job it is to get inside heads, there’s a high price on privacy.”  He kisses me before finishing up packing his bag.

“You don’t think they’ve profiled you yet?”

“We have a moratorium on that.”

“A mora…?”

“We don’t do it.”

“Oh.”  I put my hands in my pockets and lean against the wall by the desk.  I don’t want to say goodbye, I don’t want to ask when he’ll call again—especially after what he said last night.  But I don’t want him to leave.  I finally find someone that likes me and treats me like an adult and I have to let him go.  “I have three weeks off starting today, maybe I could meet you in DC. Go to your lecture, see the sights…”

“It’s not a good idea.  Chances are tomorrow we’ll just fly to another case and you’ll be stuck by yourself.”

“I don’t mind.”

He sighs.  “Dave, what about what I said last night?  This isn’t going to work that way.”

“Then maybe I don’t want it to work either way,” I move towards the door.  “Last night was great and I want to have more nights like that and I don’t mind if one of us has to leave town for a week or dates get canceled, all that shit is worth even just one more night like last night.  You know what?  No, next time we’re in the same place at the same time, don’t call me.”

I leave the room and make it to the stairwell before the tears come.  I can’t go through the lobby so I find my way to a service hallway and eventually through the kitchen and out the back near the dumpsters.  I kick at an old pop can.  Fucking asshole, he’s just like everyone else.  Treats me like a kid, makes the decisions for me.  Mistake my loyalty and friendship for servitude, they all do.  Why in the fucking hell did I ever let myself think he was better than everyone else?  Because he’s a genius who knows everything about everything?

“Doesn’t know everything,” I mutter, kicking at a second and then a third can.

That’s when I hear footsteps behind me and everything goes black.

~~~~~

10 HOURS LATER

Steve Gonsalves

When an adult is reported missing, there is a 24 hour window before an official report gets filed.  I only called the police department to check if he was in the drunk tank.  After I show them a picture and give a description they put me in the briefing room for the last three hours and mobilize a team, telling me nothing.  Which means Dave Tango isn’t the only one.  Maybe there was an accident, or a hold up, or something.  I never dealt with anything like that when I was on the force, but we ran enough drills in training for me to know that something big is happening in Davenport, Iowa.

I take out my cell phone, debating on whether or not to call Jason or Grant, who left with Kris and Amy on the plane this morning.  No, wait until I know something.  I have to wait until I know what’s going on.  If Tango is fine I don’t want to worry everyone else.

“Steve?  What are you doing here?”

I look up to see Agent Hotchner walk into the briefing room.  I stand to shake his hand.  “We were in town, supposed to leave this morning, but Tango wasn’t in his room and I came here to see if perhaps he was in the drunk tank and as soon as I gave the description…”

“Tango’s missing?”  Dr. Reid comes in, followed by the rest of the agents we worked with six months ago back in Sticks.  “I just saw him this morning before we left…” his eyes get big.

“You saw him?”  Agent Hotchner says.

Dr. Reid nods.  “I ran out early to get coffee and ran into him, said hi.  That was about 5:45 this morning.”  He looks to me.  “When did you last see him?”

“Last night.”  Tango doesn’t wake up early unless he has to, hell, he wouldn’t wake up for coffee even.  Something’s wrong.

My cell phone starts to vibrate in my pocket angrily, and I immediately check it.  Tango.  “It’s from Tango…”

“Call Garcia, get a trap and trace,” Agent Hotchner says to Agent Morgan.

I open up my phone to see a text message with a file attached.  With a nod from Agent Hotchner, I open the file.

It’s a video.

Tango’s naked.

Gagged.

Bound.

Being bent over a table.

I set the phone on the table and turn around, wanting to vomit.  When I turn back I see Agent Morgan looking at it, turning to Agents Rossi and Hotchner.  “Our profile was rock solid, Hotch.  How did we not see that he had a partner?”

“Because he didn’t.  We’ve got the wrong guy.  The unsub is still out there.”

Dr. Reid’s phone goes off and he opens it, a few seconds later looking disturbed.  “Same file sent to my phone.”

“What?”  Agent Prentiss goes to him.  “Why you?  He only sends it to people high on the victim’s speed dial.”

“I gave him my number today at the shop, said to give me a call if he was ever in DC…” Dr. Reid swallows.

“Recognized your name.  Unsub thinks we are gone, sent this to you to get us back,” Agent Rossi says, hands in his pockets.

With my cell phone now in an evidence bag, I grab the nearest desk phone and start to dial Jason and Grant.

~~~~~

Dr. Spencer Reid

“What are we missing?”  Prentiss says, tapping her pencil on the wall.

“Sexual sadist, he gets off not only on the acts but on taping them and sending them to close friends or family,” Rossi says, looking at the still photographs we printed from the latest video files.

“Victimology?” Hotchner asks.  “We have to be missing something from victimology.”

“Obviously Dave Tango is closeted,” Morgan says.  “Hell, when we first met the kid I pegged that.”

“Reid, how is your geography?”

I shake my head to focus, looking at the scribbled map in front of me.  “Dave Tango was taken from within the radius of the rest of the victims.”  My throat runs dry.  Dave was taken and all because I can’t do my job.  I failed him and the last thing he’s going to remember about me was how I failed him. 

In more ways than one.

“All our victims are dark haired young males, ranging from 21 to 25 years old,” Morgan says.

“Out of nine, seven of them were closeted gay men while the other two still claim to be straight, despite several indicators saying otherwise,” Prentiss says, sitting down.

“All victims reportedly taken in the early morning, by force.  They never see the face of their attacker.  Taken to a private place, beaten, raped all on tape.”  Rossi adds.

“Within hours of the abduction, a video of the assault is sent to those high on the victims’ cell speed dial,” JJ says.  “An outing, if you will.”

“The eight that we’ve talked to say the unsub would berate them, tell them they are weak for not being honest with themselves or the people they love,” Hotchner says.

“Eight?” Steve asks, so quiet that I barely hear him.

JJ turns to face him.  “One victim died in the ambulance after he was found from his injuries.  A second victim committed suicide the next day.”

“How long does he keep them?” He asks.

“Forty-eight to seventy-two hours, roughly.”  Prentiss says on a deep exhale, looking to Hotchner.  I know what she wants, she wants to tell Steve the whole truth.

“Each one of the men were in some way marked or permanently disfigured.  Two victims had some fingers removed, three had an ear removed, one had his tongue removed and the other three had missing toes.”  I swallow, on the verge of tears or vomiting.  Or both.  “Each man was branded on the back with the number 1.”

“Don’t you have this fucker in custody?”  Steve yells, standing up.

Hotch shakes his head.  “We thought we did, but…”

“Maybe he has a partner out there!”

I turn to Steve.  “The victims all report a single perpetrator.”

“Is it possible that this unsub knows Tango from our show?” Steve asks.

I see Hotchner internally debate whether or not to let Steve stay in the room before speaking.  “It’s possible.”  He must have decided its okay.

“He’s escalated,” I add, barely able to speak.  “He’s angry and he’s taking it out on Dave.”

I should have said yes to him.  I should have been happy to have him come to DC, to want to spend more mornings and nights together.  I just see the rest of my co-workers so unbearably unhappy trying to balance their work and their personal lives that I didn’t want to put myself through that.  So am I admitting to myself that I’m falling in love?  That I am in love?  I don’t know, I’ve never been ‘in love’.

“Reid!” Morgan taps me on the shoulder.  “You coming?”

“Huh?”

“You and I are going back to our first crime scene.”

~~~~~

Dave Tango

My head hurts.  My whole body hurts.  I’m on my stomach now, hog-tied, on a carpeted floor.  I can taste blood trickling into my mouth, from the wound in my cheek.  I bit clean through my cheek.  The ball gag is gone, replaced with duct tape.  The glue between my lips is bitter, but it doesn’t hurt as much as the ball gag did.

I hear heavy footsteps but I don’t dare move.  If he thinks I’m awake he might hurt me again.  Steve will be worried about me, he’ll come looking for me.  It takes 24 hours before a report can be filed, Tango.  I just have to make it that long.

I hear a strange hissing noise and the footsteps get closer.  I feel his hand on my back, ripping my shirt open with something sharp.  It scratches me and I feel a drop of blood pool on my skin but out of everything that’s happened I could care less about a scratch.

Another hissing noise and then heat—searing pain—on my back.  Pressure.  The smell of burning.  I scream out in pain and fear.

He’s burning me.

Preview of Chapter 2:

Before I get a chance to confront him I get a call from Hotch.  “Morgan.”

“You with Reid?”

“Yeah.”

“Get him back to the station now, don’t let on that it’s because of him, tell him we got another clue or something.  But don’t let him out of your sight.”

“Got it.”

Just what the fuck did Reid get himself into?