Chapter Text
☁︎☁
Spencer Reid’s POV
“…as Mark Hayes is finally released this afternoon, after five long years in prison. The 36-year-old Oregon man was…”
“Who’s making the statement to the press?” Jennifer 'JJ' Jareau asked while furiously typing on her phone.
“Isn’t that your job?” Morgan eased but frowned as he muted the TV.
Thank God. Everything was loud.
“I was about to go out there, but Gideon told me to stay back.”
The place was busy that day with everyone on edge for the announcement. It was not always the case that the FBI had to issue a public apology for wrongfully arresting someone. Of course, it was not entirely their fault: due process had been followed after his arrest, and a federal judge considered the evidence sufficient for his condemnation. Mark Hayes was, for all legal reasoning and purposes, part of the Oregon Mafia, the one handling their IT and the author of a killing spree. That was, until a few months back, when local police confronted members of said group and discovered that the fingerprints of one executed man matched the ones on every victim.
But the FBI was the face of the operation back then, and so it had to be the one demanding the public’s pardon. And Hayes’.
“He’s not our unit’s problem,” Spencer said, eyes searching elsewhere. “Hayes wasn’t profiled.”
He was supposed to be here by now. Why wasn’t he?
“Really?” Morgan turned to him, noticing but choosing to ignore his mind-wandering. “A serial killer with no matching fingerprints on the victims didn’t come to us?”
“What does it matter?” JJ glanced up from her phone, but immediately went back to it when it pinged.
“With no hard evidence like that, it’s usually up to a confession,” Morgan tapped the desk. “Did we get a confession?”
The stretched silence — and slightly uncomfortable feeling of being watched — made him tune back in.
“Pretty Boy?” The other nodded at him, urging him for a reply.
“Uh, yes.” He nibbled his lip. “But only after Gideon said the mafia would go after his family to silence them. The FBI offered protection in exchange for the confession.”
That made the team share one of those charged looks. It didn’t exactly help his anxiety.
Where was he?
“Guys!” Shouted Penelope, a few desks away. “It’s starting!”
As seemingly the entire office floor rushed to the small TV on the wall to hear the official press statement, Spencer approached them slowly, gripping his bag’s handle.
Admittedly, he was agitated. Not for the repercussions of whatever was to be said there, but for who was about to say it. It couldn’t be—
“Doctor Reid,” he heard, as a strong hand weighted on his right shoulder and a cardamom-rich scent filled his nostrils. “Did I miss anything?”
Aaron Hotchner, Hotch, was not the spokesperson. He could breathe again. More often than not, the spokesperson became the focus of public outrage regardless of any actual personal responsibility. By serving as the public face of the investigation, Hotch would also become a symbolic target and that wasn’t good for his safety. So, Spencer was relieved.
“Hey, sir. It’s about to start.”
When the front door of their building opened on the TV, Gideon and Prentiss marched forward.
Uh-Oh.
That was the second-worst-case scenario. Implicating the BAU on the affair meant all boring closing paperwork came to them. It also meant Gideon was not convinced it was all over.
Emily Prentiss took the stand and started by retelling the facts.
☁︎
Aaron Hotchner’s POV
“We’re not psychologists, Gideon, and he’s not a person of interest; why would we surveil him?” Strauss insisted the next morning. “This costs money, resources we don’t have—”
“It doesn’t take a behavioral analyst to understand he’s a risk now,” Aaron intervened.
“Risk of what, Hotchner? Vengeance? And can you prove it with some hard evidence that is not just the bureau’s words? You understand how very delicate our situation is with this citizen? That we’ve locked away for five years? Not to mention, if that had happened to me, the last thing I would want was to go against the ones who put me in there.”
“You wouldn’t be in this situation at all,” Gideon scorned. “Is why you wouldn’t understand.”
“This is not our job. We can’t afford to care about him until he’s doing something. With evidence, this time.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, my hands are tied. Really. The answer is no.”
☁︎
Aaron had barely left the room when Doctor Reid glued himself to his side and demanded as they sped to their office:
“How did it go?”
The younger seemed unusually restless about the whole ordeal. But to be fair, the entire bureau was the same.
“We’ll have to wait.”
Hayes’ prison trauma was not enough to profile him as an active risk. His background also didn’t suggest that strong resentment would lead to murder or anything as dark. But it was not unheard of for people in that situation to develop paranoia and a distrust of public authorities and institutions. In his case, it was also fair to consider a twisted sense of morality, a deep belief that the world was fundamentally unjust and needed fixing.
None of those were defining factors to persuade the public, though, and so Strauss didn’t allow it. And as long as the press didn’t find out, they wouldn’t share that his ex-wife was also murdered, while under the protection of the FBI. Her death was part of the Mafia crackdown operation and, therefore, a secret for as long as they could hold.
“Wait? Wait for what?”
“Until he kills someone.” Gideon intruded briefly as he clashed their shoulders and marched ahead.
Both men stopped on their tracks, defeated.
☁︎
The end of the waiting time happened right the next week, when the body of one Franklin Doyle was found resting on a massaging chair in his own front yard. Which happened to be five houses down Hayes’ own.
Despite the victim’s old age — eighty-nine —, initial investigation found signs of foul play. And despite Gideon’s and Hotch’s insistence, the case didn't go immediately to them. It took two more killings in the same neighborhood for the FBI to hand it over to BAU.
☁︎
Spencer Reid’s POV
“What do we know so far?” Prentiss entered the room on a stride, rushing to sit.
She was often late these days, having to deal with the press and the higher-ups. But they could also not start without her, as she needed to have the full picture of everything.
“It’s a difficult situation,” Gideon started. “I’m convinced Hayes did it. But we’ll need stronger proof than just proximity to his house to arrest him.”
“We profile him, then find the motive,” Morgan stated the obvious. “How does our guy move?”
“Well, this is just the thing,” Hotch put it plainly: “There’s a disconnect between expected motive and observed behavior.”
Since Morgan’s face was all scrunched up in confusion — as well as Penelope’s and JJ’s and Prentiss’, for that matter —, he decided to jump in.
“We expected our not-so-unsub to have a retaliatory motive,” he tapped the stick he held to Hayes’ printed face on the whiteboard. “We expected him to act like someone enraged by the fault in our system that locked him up for years. But there’s no behavioral evidence of expressive violence in his killings.” He summarized: “He’s not externalizing anger in a symbolic way.”
“His violence is almost instrumental,” Hotch took over, “as if the murders were merely means to an end. But there is no connection among the victims except that they lived close to him. And there’s no rage. No show, no spectacle; he doesn’t take anything from them, so no trophies. And at the same time, his movements are controlled. Efficient.”
“Okay, so he’s like, goal-oriented, or something,” Morgan concluded. “But then, what’s that goal?”
“It’s not that simple, Morgan,” Gideon shook his head. “See, this man has no history of violence or crimes, nothing. How is he so clean on the murder scene?”
“Why does he seem so experienced?” Prentiss wondered aloud.
It was what they were all thinking. The puzzle didn’t fit. And as anyone could see, the more they tried to profile Mark Hayes, the less he looked like the murderer.
A heavy, uncomfortable silence stood over them for a few minutes, until Morgan broke it.
“We need to know more about this guy, that’s the way. Strauss needs to clear us to talk to him.”
“His house is surrounded by the press and will be for the next few months,” JJ commented. “I’m pretty sure they’re filming a documentary about the whole thing. We can’t risk it.”
Morgan groaned. “Come on, let the press talk.”
“We can’t risk any more budget cuts on our end,” Prentiss retorted. “We can’t afford the bad press.”
She sounded like Strauss.
That time around, the silence didn’t stay for long.
“Undercover work,” Hotch pitched. “Regardless of whether we become targets, we can befriend him, take a look inside his house, and I’m convinced we’ll have enough information to go on. Maybe even evidence.”
Spencer glanced at Gideon, then at his smirk, and concluded that was the old man’s plan all along.
“Right. It would also be a good idea to control, or at least know, the media narrative. We could use this undercover work to see what the documentary will be trying to say.” JJ added. “I’m assuming if they’re already shooting it, it should take another one or two months to finish it.”
“At least four weeks of undercover work,” Penelope nodded with a grimace. “Who volunteers?”
“There will be no volunteers,” Gideon stood up from his chair. “Maximum we can have on one house without raising suspicion is two adults. We need one experienced profiler to figure our guy out. It should, but can’t, be me, as I was exposed to the press earlier this month. So, Hotchner will go.” Everyone’s head turned to his boss, who remained impassive. “Then, as it is, we need someone to figure out the rest of the case. This case which is a puzzle anomaly. We need our best puzzle solver.”
And then, all heads turned to him.
He didn’t know how to take the news.
Well, first. It would be his and Hotch’s first undercover case together. That raised issues such as: what would be their cover? Father and son? How would that dynamic work when interacting with Hayes? Wouldn’t it be weird for Hotch to be accompanied by his child all the time? So, lovers? A couple? With their age difference, it might give them unwanted attention in the traditional neighborhood. Not to mention—
“Reid?” Hotch’s voice cut through his head’s noise. “What do you say?”
There was also the issue of staying on the field for too long after the Hankel case.
“We've exhausted interviews, forensic evidence, surveillance…” He recalled the files. “At this point, undercover work is the highest probability of generating new intelligence…” He sighed. “Okay.”
☁︎
Aaron Hotchner’s POV
“Man, this is about to be so weird.” Morgan stared at the two of them, shaking his head. “I don’t think the kid can pull it off.”
“Oh, come on,” Reid rolled his eyes, which was unusual for him. He then cleared his throat, squinting uncertainly up at him, then away. “…I’m not exactly used to undercover work.” He conceded in a murmur, tucking his hair behind his ear.
Embarrassment.
It sort of amused Aaron.
“Alright, everyone.” He scanned the room. “A few things to remind you before we go: we are keeping our first names; we’ll go as Spencer and Aaron Hastings; when calling, no use of last names. We have been engaged for one year and agreed to buy the house together, which postponed the wedding. Meaning, we use the same last name, but are not yet formally married. When sending mail, address only me as Hastings. Spencer is Montgomery. When contacting with no eyes on the field, start the call with ‘How are you’. We’ll be able to tell you where we are even with others close by. If we can signal trouble, it will be ‘How are the kids’.” After everyone nodded, he proceeded. “We’ll also report via email every night. I believe this is enough, the rest is in the files. We’ll be off now.”
“Wait, wait.” Morgan’s voice was laced with worry, but his facial expressions didn’t match it. “Picture of the happy couple first?” He broke into a smile.
The situation seemed to entertain the team.
“We already have those, did you not read the file?” Reid, or rather, Spencer, retorted. “They’re all fabricated, though.”
“Say cheese, then.” JJ flashed a picture of them, unexpectedly.
After too many small jokes, they were finally off to the road.
The drive there was just the two of them, to avoid raising any alarm with the press standing nearby their home. They were definitely expected, though, as the moving truck had been there earlier in the morning. All normal: a couple moving into their new forever home.
They should use that first day to settle, and the next to meet the neighbors. Hayes lived right across the street from them, so getting to him shouldn’t take so long, it wouldn’t be unnatural for them to— Reid’s leg wouldn’t stop bouncing.
“Are you alright?” It wasn’t uncharacteristic of the younger to be jittery, but it was their first time doing undercover work together and they needed to be comfortable in their role. And they hadn’t talked much about it so far.
“Yeah,” the other exhaled forcefully. “Yeah— I mean. This operation requires sustained emotional performance…” He inhaled, eyes slightly bulging. “…under moderate-risk conditions— I can do it.”
Are you trying to convince me or yourself?, Aaron thought, but avoided saying it to not make matters worse. He was the experienced one, after all. He could guide him.
“It’ll be fine, Reid.” He gripped the wheel, glancing quickly at the boy before turning back to the road. “We won’t be around people all the time. And at any sign of compromised positions, we’ll be out of there.”
“I understand,” the boy replied as he stared right ahead. “But when we are around others, we’ve got to not only keep but sustain a fictional romance— I,” he emphasized, “need to behave romantically. Which is not exactly at the top of my skill set.”
Hotchner had guessed that.
He wanted to convey that he possessed the needed experience for both of them. “You know, I have been married before.”
“Unsuccessfully,” came as the immediate reply.
They flinched. The kid wasn’t wrong, but his talk-backs when under stress could compromise their cover. Aaron kept that in mind.
“Sorry,” Spencer said with a small voice. “I didn’t mean— What I’m saying is that we’re both married to our jobs, and maybe we won’t know how to appear in love.”
Close enough to what Haley thought, as well.
He sighed. That wasn’t about him.
“Hey,” Aaron was used to Reid’s brooding over fear, but that was different. The boy was anxious about his inadequacy as a partner. "Not every couple is openly affectionate. Being more… reserved, as we naturally are, won't compromise the cover."
Spencer shook his head, his elbow resting on the window frame, absentmindedly nibbling at his thumb. When the sun warmed his hair, glowing softly, he drifted from Special Agent Reid, Dr., to a somewhat delicate lamb. Spencer had no business being on the FBI at his age, with his frame, and his anti-confrontational personality.
“What level-headed couple moves in together, takes on a mortgage, and joins their finances before getting married?” He pointed out. “That’s not level-headed thinking. These are two people heavily emotionally invested in each other, to the point where it overrides caution. It would show on their behavior, especially towards each other.”
He considered that information. He supposed the other was right.
“Then we’ll practice at home until we’re natural at it in public.”
To be fair, Aaron was not exactly at ease with the operation, either. He never thought that would be something he’d have to do for his work. He’d seen stranger things, but for some reason, other forms of undercover activity seemed easier. Acting as a couple involved levels of uncomfortable exposure… A vulnerability of sorts.
Embarrassment. Openness to emotions and situations he preferred to keep away from work.
“You got it, boss.”
“And, just so you know,” he didn’t appreciate mixing his personal with professional life, but he didn’t want to omit anything from his subordinate, either. “Haley wants to try again. The marriage, I mean.”
So maybe his relationship had been unsuccessful, but not hopeless.
“Oh.” He couldn’t read the other’s expression, apart from the slight discomfort of someone who also didn’t like to talk about personal affairs. “And do you?”
If he wanted his life back?
“It would be good for Jack,” came out of his mouth instead. “A united front, a strong family for him.” He wanted to close the subject, apparently not being above the uneasiness of exposing too much. “But there was no action on that yet.”
Reid nodded.
“Why’s that?”
“Well, I had to leave for this case.”
☁︎☁︎