Title: Two cute Brains.
Fandom: crossover SG-1/Criminal Minds.
Main characters: Daniel Jackson, Spencer Reid.
Summary: What happened when two cute Brians met together during a bank robbery?
Spoilers: None. SG-1 after all seasons CM after season 6.
A/N: After a great help from my new beta 'Spirit Speaker' I re-wrote this story and I'm posting it here again. Special for Heather. My first cross with sg-1/cm and my first ff with CM.
Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or Criminal Minds.
Without philosophy, action has no meaning.
— Sebastian Foucan
"Put the gun down." Came a sharp and firm order.
The alley was dark and cold. But for them, there was no need for any light in order to see Reid perfectly.
He was leaning over a container, clamping his right hand nervously on his left shoulder. His facial expression spoke more than they needed to know. He was wounded and that made them even more furious. At this point though, Reid needed them calm.
Hotch could see another person. Not an enemy because Reid moved his gaze every now and then to look at the person lying on the ground, as if checking they were all right.
One of the hostages, Hotch thought, while moving his eyes to the man lying on the ground right at Reid's feet. The man didn't move, but Hotch knew he was alive. Criminals had taken the two men as collateral, but something went wrong. Reid and the other man had resisted.
"I said put the weapon down." Hotch hissed through clenched teeth.
The attacker twitched, acting as if weighing his options and came to the conclusion that he'd lost. Carefully he began to put weapon on the ground.
"I got him," said Morgan, putting the cuffs on the criminal's wrists.
"It's going to be okay, Reid." Hotch touched the good arm of the young man."Everything is fine," he repeated.
Colorado Springs, six hours earlier
He went to the bank and sighed with relief. Fortunately there wasn't a large queue. At the front desk, three tellers were quickly handling their customers. Before Reid stood a stout, middle-aged man and although the building was air conditioned, a man with a handkerchief nervously wiped sweat from his face.
On a comfortable couch sat a young woman with two small children, aged four and seven years old. On the chair sat an older man supporting himself on a walking stick and murmuring something to his self. Probably suffering from Parkinson's or Alzheimer's or even just senility, which statistically affects about fifty million people around the world.
At that moment, three older people between fifty-five and sixty years of age were just served. A man in black trousers and dark blue, wearing suede jacket caught Reid's attention. He was standing about four feet from the window with his back turned to Reid.
The man was currently engaged in a very nervous conversation over the phone. He was gesturing animatedly, every now and then pushing up his falling glasses. Although he was nervous, he did not even once raise the tone of his voice; as if he was patiently explaining something to the person he was speaking to. Reid didn't know why, but he took interest in the man and focused his full attention on him, attempting to profile him in detail. There was something about this guy that attracted his attention. For Reid, profiling every day, average people was like a nice way to relax after a long investigation- like the one his team had ended several hours ago. It was a nice change from profiling the murderer, terrorist, or the innocent victim that survived. Or even the 'not aware of anything' the witness.
In Reid's eyes (when starting at the base level) the observed man was an American, about forty or maybe forty-five years old. The man was most likely not military, as his hair wasn't cut to military regulations. This could be misleading because not all military men cut their hair in this way, especially if they are not on active duty. The posture of this man though...
His posture needed to be considered for a bit longer. Surely, the man's legs were strong and athletic. And his legs were long, adding to his height, which Reid judged to be about six feet tall. The coat probably hid a muscled body. He seemed more a policeman, soldier, or even federal agent than an athlete (except maybe a hockey player) and even more Spencer excluded him from a group of scientists. Nice, Reid smiled to himself. But something was still in this man. Particularly, watchful glances around him, noticed by no one, told a different story.
While he was speaking over the phone and seemed to be rather absorbed with his conversation, Spencer knew the man was aware of his location. Also, while the man was monitoring the situation in the bank, he was also at a place by the window where the man would see exactly what happened on the main street.
These weren't the typical actions of an innocent man and gave mixed signals that he may be criminal, a spy, or a deserter. Reid saw the man stop with bowed head and closed eyes, under which dark circles of fatigue stood out. A grimace of discontent gave the man a few more years. The man then raised his head and looked at Reid, offered him a faint smile and ended his conversation. He rubbed his forehead with his hand and headed towards the woman sitting on the couch and older man sitting on a chair. The stout man moved slightly to made him some place.
"Thank you." Said Spencer's observed object with a weary, but nice voice.
Reid checked the time and sighed. He had hoped to take care of his things quickly, and that Morgan would not have to wait for him so long.
It was then that six men burst into the building, each with a strange mask upon their face.
Before anyone managed to react, one of the newcomers yelled "This is a bank robbery, hand over all your noodles!"