Work Text:
Of Innocence and Empathy: The World Alone
by Frogg
Paperwork, the bane of my existance, Morgan thought to himself as he pushed yet another finished form and set it aside, then the pen, and shook his hand. I'd rather be out doing something.
'But then people have to die,' his conscience whispered back.
They already are dying, and I'm stuck here filling out forms! Giving up, he turned in his chair, letting go the focus he'd locked himself into to get the job done.
The office was relatively quiet; the constant hum of typing, crunching computers, scratching pens and rustling paper droned on, like any other office. Hotch and Gideon were both visible in Gideon's office through the window, the door closed. Neither JJ nor Emily were in sight, probably in the break room, JJ's office, or with Garcia in her bunker. Reid, on the other hand, was staring at the file folder in his lap, frustration and sadness in his posture, in his expression.
"Reid?"
Reid jerked back in his chair, startled, and had to struggle to keep the folder from spilling all over the floor. Blushing and breathing hard, he finally turned wide eyes to Morgan, his expression puzzled.
"Big think?"
Seeming unwilling to meet his eyes then, Reid shrugged, concentrating instead on straightening the file, then tossing it back on the desk.
Morgan raised an eyebrow. Embarrassing, personal, or...me, he decided. "Want to talk about it? The conference room should be free," he added as Reid glanced around the room.
Reid took in a shuddering breath, then nodded.
Once inside, Morgan shut the door behind him, leaning back against it as Reid slowly paced around the table, gingerly rubbing the edge, running his hands over the backs of the chairs. Patience, he told himself.
Finally, Reid looked up, pinning him with a sad, forlorn stare. "Are, are you ever g-going to forgive him?" he asked, voice thin and cracking.
Morgan blinked. "What?"
"Hotch. For, for d-digging, for--"
"Wait a minute, Reid, Hotch and I aren't fighting."
"You're not b-being friends, either. He k-keeps waiting for y-you to t-tell him it's, it's okay, or something, I, I d-don't know," he ended on a whisper, hugging his arms to him.
Pushing off the door with a huge sigh, Morgan rubbed the back of his head with one hand. "Reid, it's between Hotch and me, and--"
"It's not! It's not!" Reid broke in, upset. "It's hurting you, and him, and affecting the rest of the team! How are we supposed to keep working when the two of you can't be more than civil to each other?"
Morgan had heard Reid lose his stutter before, in lecture-mode, or angry, but that anger had never been directed at him before. He didn't like it. "That's my choice," Morgan rumbled back, his own anger piqued.
"And what choice did he have? It was either leave you to be framed for three murders, or help you frame Rodney Harris, or find out the truth."
"I didn't want him to know the truth!" Anger. Rage. Self-loathing.
Fear.
"Don't you think he knows that? Don't you think we all know that? Hotch's father beat the living daylights out of him! You think it's any easier for him, to find out that you had to suffer and him be forced to use it to defend you?!"
"He should have done as I asked!" Desperation.
"No." Reid paused, glaring, gulping in air. "No, he shouldn't have. To leave you in prison? Is that anything a friend would do? Would a friend help you frame someone else?" Step by step, Reid came closer.
Unaccountably, Morgan found himself backing up, until he felt the wood of the door against his back again.
"Have we really treated you all that differently since?"
Cornered, Morgan trembled, unable to answer the understanding in Reid's voice, in his eyes. Understanding he didn't want to know the cause of. Too close to knowing, he closed his eyes against it, shrinking back into himself.
"Morgan?"
A gentle hand touched his neck, brushing down below his ear to his shoulder.
"It's over, Morgan."
Soothing. Comforting.
The same gifts they offered each other in the dark of night, in waking nightmares on the road.
"It's over," Reid said again.
Morgan had the feeling he'd keep repeating those two words.
"It's over."
Need welled up, uncaring of their location, that the rest of the team could barge in -- not with both of them pressed up against the door -- for another case, that a dozen other possibilities existed for interruption, or lack of privacy. Unable to stop himself, Morgan reached out, dragging Reid more fully against him, burying his face in Reid's pale, pale throat as he shuddered.
"It's over."
end