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Chapter 18

Epilogue

"It always makes me proud to love the world somehow - Hate's so easy compared" - Jack Kerouac, "Big Sur "

His kidnapping and torture could have embittered Reid.

He had already seen the worst of humanity as a member of the BAU.

Now he had experienced it firsthand.

For a time, Reid had almost let the ordeal destroy him.

Slowly, however, he had clawed his way back.

Reid was no longer as innocent, his soul no longer as stainless, he would always battle addiction and PTSD, but he was still a good man.

He resolved not to let his past haunt his future.

Reid resolved to move on.

Reid was jolted out of the riptide of recollections engulfing him by a sound technician removing his microphone.

Forcing his focus onto his surroundings, Reid noticed that Van Sant was already standing, regarding Reid sympathetically, while nodding occasionally as a crew member spoke to him.

The overhead spotlights abruptly went dark, leaving shimmering white rings dancing before Reid's eyes. The hulking metal cameras had already retreated, their hooded lenses staring blankly across the studio.

Relief rushed through Reid as he realized the interview had ended.

He rose unsteadily, and Hotch materialized at his right elbow. As he stepped off the set, Morgan and Rossi reached out to prevent him from stumbling.

Now that the interview was over, his teammates were noticeably quiet. JJ, Garcia, and Prentiss were clinging to one another in a tight group a few feet away. Reid turned his gaze away from their sorrowing expressions. JJ, in particular, looked stricken.

Mercifully, Reid's memory of his interrogation was fragmented and cloudy. But he knew Van Sant's probing questions had exposed facts and feelings he had determined to keep secret forever.

Had he unintentionally confirmed what he feared the team already suspected? That he was too weak and damaged to be trusted with his job?

The moment of silence ended, and Reid was dazedly aware of too hearty smiles and murmured reassurances from his team. Morgan clapped him on the shoulder congenially, and JJ wrapped her arms around his neck, making them both sway. When JJ stepped back, Garcia hurried forward to take her place.

"Come on, break it up, you two." Morgan intervened in response to Reid's mute appeal.

Garcia reluctantly let go.

"Why don't we all go out for drinks?" she asked brightly, looking around for support. She waved her phone. "I'll look up the nearest bar."

"Well, Reid?" Prentiss asked, after a prolonged silence.

Reid glanced up. "Are you waiting for me? No, thanks. You go ahead."

"Some other time," Hotch agreed, steering Reid toward the door.

"Just a minute," Van Sant called, walking over briskly with the director.

What now? Reid thought.

"We may be calling a few of you back for one-on-one interviews," Van Sant said amiably. Despite the friendly tone, he noticed they were instantly on guard.

"On behalf of '48 Hours', and the staff and crew," he continued, "I want to thank the BAU."

Van Sant extended his hand. "And especially you, Dr. Reid."

Reid found himself shaking hands with the anchor numbly. After a mutual exchange of polite and somewhat strained goodwill, Reid and the team headed for the exit.

Van Sant watch the BAU team surround and insulate Reid, as protective as before, if not more. The anchor had only admiration for this team who chased serial killers. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to wake up every morning to face monsters.

He hoped Dr. Reid could someday lay to rest the horror and lingering trauma of being kidnapped, tortured, and forced to outwit three psychopaths warring within one body.

Hotch risked taking his eyes off the road to glance over at Reid. He was driving Reid home. No one had thought it a good idea for Reid to provide his own transportation today.

His junior agent had been lost in introspection ever since they had said their goodbyes to Van Sant at the studio.

Reid stirred and looked his way. "What?"

"Nothing." Well, that was hardly true. "I want you to know…the way you handled yourself…under the circumstances…I'm proud of you. We're all proud of you."

"You don't have to.…"

"I mean it," Hotch said more firmly.

Reid shrugged. Hotch wondered how big a setback this experience would be to Reid's self-esteem and confidence.

The impact of Reid's revelations on Hotch and, he knew from their demeanors, the rest of the team, had been shattering.

As detail after brutal and heart-wrenching detail had emerged, the team had been progressively stunned. When Reid described being dragged through the woods to dig his own grave, they had been shocked. And when Reid had told Van Sant that Charles intended to bury him alive, they had been rendered speechless.

Reid's recital of these events had been gruesome and harrowing enough. Hotch could only speculate at the tumultuous feelings and raw psychological wounds that had gone unspoken. Reid's retreat into flashbacks twice during the interview told Hotch they were sometimes unbearable.

Hotch ardently wished he had been able to spare Reid this trial.

He vowed, not for the first time, to do a better job of supporting and sheltering Reid than he had done after Georgia.

"Why don't you take tomorrow off," Hotch suggested. "I can square it with Strauss."

Reid made a noncommittal sound.

Hotch hesitated. He was unsure about bringing up the next subject. But his curiosity had been insatiable ever since Van Sant had raised the issue.

"You don't have to talk about it, but…," Hotch paused.

"Yes?" Reid sounded utterly spent.

"I'm sorry. What you said about your relationship with Gideon changing. That didn't shock me. It's understandable. What surprised me is that I and the rest of the team didn't notice."

Reid was silent for so long, Hotch thought he had lost him.

"Gideon noticed," Reid stated at last.

That was unexpected. Hotch gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

"He did?"

"It hurt his ego. That I didn't want to sit at his feet and lap up his wisdom any longer," Reid said bitterly.

"I had no idea." As if the foundations of Reid's world hadn't been uprooted enough by Hankel.

"I tried not to let it interfere with our working together," Reid said dully. "And Gideon was contrite, or pretended to be. But it was just like Elle, wasn't it? When Gideon decided to ignore Randall Garner's rules," Reid said all in a rush.

"He got Elle shot," Reid continued. "Only he made sure he was there in the hospital when she came to, so Elle blamed you. He never told her what he had done."

Gideon's hand wringing over Elle's shooting had always seemed more histrionic than sincere. Hotch had thought so at the time, but there had been plenty of blame to go around.

"Elle almost died because of Gideon. I almost died because of Gideon."

"I'm sure Gideon.…"

Reid was not listening. "He wanted my forgiveness. But he wouldn't beg for it. He wouldn't even apologize. He rationalized it," Reid said with venomous disdain.

"He thought my IQ was all I was, Hotch. After all our time together. He treated me like Mr. Spock," Reid said, his voice rising. "He expected me to say what he had done was okay because it was logical."

Reid's voice hitched. When he continued, his voice vibrated with strain.

"I'm not Mr. Spock, Hotch." Reid turned his head and stared bleakly out of the window.

The unspoken tagline hung in the air between them.

Defiant, uncertain, achingly poignant.

I'm human.

THE END