This story is a companion piece to a one shot I wrote entitled "Good People".

It's not vital to read the first one but it might help to know the back story. (Just know that Reid was injured in an explosion. The accident robbed him of his sight and he now has health problems. He has a caregiver to help him with day to day things, and has returned to work for the BAU.) Also, "Isis" the cat was staying at Reid's while its owner was away in "Good People".

Standard disclaimers apply: Criminal Minds isn't mine, and I'm not profiting from this story.

This is unbetaed, although I've done my best to scan for errors. Please let me know if you find any.

There's a bit of magic in everything, and some loss to even things out. ~Lou Reed

My sister, Liz, comes back from Sweden.

She gives me an elaborate painted wooden horse and thanks me for watching her "baby". I'm not exactly sorry to see Isis go; the Siamese has never been fond of me, and the feeling is pretty much mutual.

It's Reid I'm worried about.

He's not exactly depressed, but he's quieter than usual, spending even more time in his head, and one time I catch him absently stroking a couch cushion while he works.

When I notice his appetite (which has been improving) is on the decline, I realize that this is ridiculous and decide to take action.

We pull up to Carrie's house, and I have to admit I'm kind of excited too. Carrie's family moved in across the street from mine when I was six years old; she and Liz were pretty much inseparable, and I've always thought of her as part of the family.

Carrie comes to the door wearing a knee length skirt and a baggy t proclaiming that the moon landing was a hoax; it's one of those rare times where I'm almost grateful that Reid can't see. Cats weave in and out of her legs, cutting her off as she tries to lead us down the hall; she doesn't pay any attention to the furry posse. I try not to wrinkle my nose at the strong smell of cat permeating the house.

She spends a long time showing us Isis' mother, Tabitha, a large Siamese that reminds me of one of the evil cats in Lady and the Tramp. She talks on and on (and on) about her pets (pedigree, genetics, coloring, temperament…) I listen for a few minutes before discretely glancing at my watch. I'm getting a bit impatient with her until I notice that Reid is hanging on every word. I sit back and relax, trying not to smirk as I hear about the importance of feline dental care.

Carrie leads Reid into the cat room, and closes the door behind them as if something illicit is about to take place. A few minutes later she comes out alone.

"What? I don't get to see the kittens?" I'm not a huge cat person, but I appreciate teeny tiny animals as much as the next guy, and after driving all the way out here, I expect to see the new litter.

"He needs to choose on his own, not be influenced in his decision."

"Geez Care , it's just a cat- he's not buying shares in Berkshire Hathaway."

She gives me a disapproving look, and I can tell that I have said the wrong thing.

Carrie is a wiz at making money. She plays the stock market (and wins) and does the cat thing on the side, but her first love is really animals. She takes being a cat owner much more seriously than being a shareholder. She is clever but not greedy, and I know she'd stop worrying about stocks in a heartbeat if it wasn't for her mortgage payments and a weakness for Italian shoes.

Carrie serves tea and cookies (and a little cat hair) and we make small talk about the pictures Liz posted from her trip, and how I'm settling into my new apartment. She mentions that she saw a guy I went to school with working at a bank in Richmond.

An hour later and we are running out of things to say, the tea is getting cold and if I eat another cookie I'll probably cough up a hairball. I'm just about to suggest that she call me when Reid is ready, when we hear the tap, tap, tap of a cane on the hardwood.

He's carrying a cat; it's small but definitely not one of the kittens from the new litter. Carrie gets up and guides him into the kitchen; I see the disappointment on her face when she sees what one he's chosen.

"Oh, that's Simon. He's… he's not for sale," she says, apologetically, taking the cat from Reid as he feels around for a place to sit.

"He's from the same litter as Isis, but he never sold. You don't want that cat, Spencer. Why don't we go back and find you a nice kitten?"

"I like this one," Reid says stubbornly, and the look on his face tells me he that he's made up his mind and isn't going to budge.

"I've never been that comfortable with infants anyway, so an older cat is fine with me."

Carrie shakes her head and laughs at his response, giving me a look that says "is this guy for real?"

I smile and shrug; I've gotten used to the genius's quirky remarks although I still can't tell if he's serious or putting me on.

"Well, I didn't plan on giving Noah's buddy a dud cat, but if you really want him…"

Reid frowns, and I wonder if he's decided he doesn't want Simon after all, or if he's just annoyed at being referred to as my 'buddy'.

"He's a dud because he didn't sell or because he's not a kitten?" Reid asks, puzzled.

"No, he's a dud because he's the runt and his eyes cross."

Carrie claps a hand over her mouth as soon as she realizes what she's said, but the damage is already done.

Reid becomes interested in the pockets on his vest, turning them inside out and then tucking them back neatly, pursing his lips in concentration as he smoothes away invisible wrinkles. He gives the pockets a final pat, and looks right at Carrie.

"I'd like to purchase this cat, please."

Carrie waves off the offer of money (still mortified by what she has said) but Reid insists on paying her the exact amount she charged for show quality cats, and she doesn't dare argue. We leave hurriedly, with Simon in his new carrier; the walk to the car is silent, but I can tell that Reid is pleased.

My key sticks a little as I bend down to unlock the rusted door. I try not to be insulted that a cat cost more than my car.

Back at Reid's apartment, I fill two small blue bowls, one with water and one with kibble, and hope that Simon isn't as finicky as his sister. The doctor proudly takes his new pet to meet Mrs. Lombardi, the landlady who will watch him when we're away. I set up the litter box and place Simon's cat bed on the window seat.

I turn on the oven and open the fridge, removing the casserole Garcia dropped off earlier. I am the technical analyst's number one fan these days- she's as good in the kitchen as she is on the keyboard, and has been my saving grace on countless nights when I'm just too tired to cook. Reid's diet is limited so we rarely eat out, and I feel guilty giving him too many packaged foods. Garcia knows what things he can eat, and somehow manages to make the bland food taste good.

Suddenly there is a scream.

It sounds like an animal.

I drop the shepherd's pie and wince as CorningWare and ceramic tile meet with a deafening crash. I am out the door and across the hall before I realize my feet are even moving, and then somehow I'm in Mrs. Lombardi's kitchen trying to steady Reid's trembling shoulders as I call out his name. He's staring at his palms with horrified disbelief.

He doesn't need sight to know what is on them.

Dark liquid drips down his wrists and pools on the chipped linoleum.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

I fumble for my cell, and try not to look at the body on the floor.

TBC

AN: Please review, it makes my day!