Silence of the Lambs style. Reid is sent to interview serial killer Aaron Hotchner in prison. Warnings: Hotch as UnSub, dark, might be slash later on.
Intro: So this has been ghosting around in my head ever since I read this amazing story called Hunter by Dameange. It's on LJ, you should totally check it out if you haven't come across it yet, it's one of the best if ever read for the pairing.
This is not a crossover with Silence of the Lambs, I'm just stealing the story line of that movie and of its sequel Hannibal.
This is the general idea: Hotch is kinda like Dr. Lecter, locked away since he snapped and went on a killing spree after Foyet. He worked for the BAU before but they helped lock him up, the team is chasing Frank Breitkopf but they can't get a lead on him.
Reid has been on medical leave for about one and a half years after a case gone horribly wrong and Frank is his first case back with the old team.
You'll see the connection once you've read a couple of chapters but if you've seen the movie it should be pretty clear where this is headed anyways.
Warnings: Angst, violence, probably death too, story bordering on crack, canon time line messed up as usual. May include slash later on. Hotch is the UnSub here and therefore all kinds of OOC. He's a killer and he isn't too fond of his old team. Just so I don't get any complaints later on.
Friday, September 23rd 11:43 AM
Psychiatrist Dr. Charlene Halley sat in her office, a note pad in her hands as she took in her current patient with a skeptical expression. The young man sitting across from her looked old beyond his years, be it because of his poor choice of clothing emphasizing his thinness or the deep dark circles underneath his eyes.
"And how often do you have the dream these days, Dr. Reid?" she asked casually, trying to ignore the distress displayed by his fluttering hands and tense posture.
Dr. Spencer Reid kept looking at his lap in silence for a couple of seconds, the only indication that he was very much affected by her question the bony fingers coming up to unconsciously clutch the fabric covering his stomach.
Dr. Halley frowned as her eyes followed the motion. He had once told her he thought he could still feel the stab wounds that had been left there almost two years ago.
"Every night," Reid told her quietly and she nodded, unsurprised.
Given her profession she knew all too well that the wounds of the mind left scars much worse than those of the body, too deep to be effectively healed from the outside.
"Have you tried writing down some more details like I asked?" she required to know, "Working through the traumatic event is the first step on the road to recovery. Your mind is trying to protect itself by blocking it out while you're awake, but at night—"
"I am familiar with the symptoms of retrograde amnesia, Doctor," the young man cut her off rather abruptly, curling into himself instinctively in contrast to his offended tone.
As always he wasn't keen on being lectured. Just like he wasn't keen on being reminded of his past.
"I've studied psychology, too, you know?" he added after a moment, a bit more softly, exhaustion showing through, "I don't need you to tell me what's wrong with me."
Dr. Halley sighed, used to the occasional mood swing after weeks of working with him. "I didn't mean to upset you. I was merely suggesting—"
But Reid didn't let her finish, looking more exasperated than ever when he leaned forward, fixating her intently.
"Look, Doctor, it's been over a month since I've woken up from my coma," he said impatiently, "The only memories that are missing are those of the events and people linked to the assault, and we both know that those can't be forced out of the brain. I'm sure it will come back to me over time, but I need to finally get a life away from this hospital again. Could you please just clear me, so I can go back to my job?"
They measured each other up for almost a minute, she worried and doubtful, he so eager it almost seemed desperate.
After a moment, Dr. Halley sighed in defeat, "There is the condition of a certain number of follow up checks of course, and your superior has to clear you as well."
She could almost see Reid sagging in relief at her concession, his first success after almost two weeks of arguing with her unsuccessfully about his condition.
"He already has. May I go now?"
Dr. Halley sighed inaudibly. He seemed a little too enthusiastic to get back to work for her taste, but then, some people just lived for their jobs.
"Certainly," she nodded, standing up to shake his hand, "Good luck, Dr. Reid. Don't forget to make an appointment with my secretary on the way out."
She watched him leave the office in silence hurriedly, worry etched into her creased face. The FBI transferred most of their employees in need of psychological evaluation to her, but Spencer Reid´s was an especially gruesome case.
She had read about it in the newspaper first just like everybody else.
Twenty four year old agent fallen prey to one of the most vicious serial killers the state had seen in years, attacked and stabbed numerous times in a vain attempt to save another agent's family from The Reaper.
With the trauma and blood loss, she'd been told, it was a miracle he had woken back up at all after all this time. The memory loss was to be expected after what he´d suffered through, the brain taking its own time to deal with the experience. Who knew in what condition he might be if it weren't for that protective mechanism?
The fact that he seemed so careless about his repressed memories was somewhat worrisome, but frequent nightmares were really no reason to keep an otherwise healthy agent from doing his job again.
Dr. Halley sighed deeply as she made her way back over to her desk, readying herself for her next patient.
It was honorable of the young agent to want to go back to his old job so quickly, but she doubted it was a very good idea. He might think he could handle it, but who knew how the constant sight of bloody murder scenes or the interaction with a team scarred by the loss of two members would affect him?
She only hoped that he wouldn´t be sitting in her office again next week, forced to start from scratch all over.
Not the power to remember, but its very opposite, the power to forget, is a necessary condition for our existence.