Chapter Text
Derek Morgan stood in the hallway, leaning against a cinder-block wall. A failing florescent light was flickering above him, casting intermittent shadows on the floor. A lanky figure approached and Derek nodded his head in recognition.
"Julian." He greeted the other man casually.
"You ready?" Julian asked, his voice bubbling with mischievous excitement. He wiggled a key ring at Derek as he walked by.
Derek shrugged. "Yeah, let's go."
Derek fell into line behind Julian and they proceeded together down the hallway. His breath was steady and slow, his pace even, and his posture relaxed. His hands, however, were balled into tight fists. His nails dug into his palms.
They made a left and then a right, passing a few men walking the opposite direction. Julian nodded at each in turn. One rolled his eyes, but most ignored the pair completely.
Finally, they reached a metal door. With no one nearby, Julian paused and turned around to whisper at Derek.
"Ok, if anyone asks," he instructed conspiratorially, "Santi told us to come in here and check on the prisoner."
Derek nodded, his breath caught in his chest.
"You ready to see a real-life FBI agent, Adam?" Julian asked. He opened the door without waiting for "Adam" to answer.
Derek exhaled as they both entered a mostly empty room with another metal door set in the opposite wall. That door had been refitted with a slide-bolt lock that was padlocked shut.
Two large men were seated in folding chairs on either side of the door. One smoked a cigarette while the other flipped through a fantasy football magazine. They both looked up as Derek and Julian entered. Derek immediately noticed the guns strapped to their hips.
"Santi sent us to check on the agent!" Julian announced, a little too loudly. He pulled the key ring from his pocket as evidence of his claim.
The two men looked at each other for a beat and then the cigarette-smoker sighed. "Fine," he said. He gestured at the door with his head.
Julian crossed the room quickly and stuck one of the keys from the key ring in the padlock. Derek followed behind with measured steps. By the time Julian opened the door, Derek was right beside him. He swallowed as they headed inside.
The door swung shut behind them and Derek took everything in. It was a small room, built with the same cinder-block walls, dirty linoleum floors, and crumbling tiled ceilings as the rest of the complex. A dividing wall down the middle of the room had been ripped out and replaced with a chain-link fence. A slender cot rested on the other side of the fence. Across from that was a toilet and a sink. There were no working florescent lights left in the ceiling. The whole scene was lit by a floor lamp with no lampshade.
Someone sat on the cot with their hands in their lap. They were leaning against the fence with their back to the door and didn't turn to look when it opened. One leg bounced up and down restlessly
Derek froze. His heart hammered in his chest.
Julian didn't seem to notice. "Hey, Fed," he said, leaning forward and wrapping his fingers around the chain link, "how's it going?" His voice was practically sing-songy.
The figure breathed out. "Julian," they said, without turning their head, "did your dad give you permission to be in here? Or are you still trying to make yourself feel important?"
Derek's throat tightened.
Julian shook the fence and faked a laugh. "Shut the fuck up," he said, before turning towards Derek. "He's a little bitch." He shrugged his shoulders. "I can't believe he's a fed. I mean look at him."
An eternity passed before Derek registered that Julian had said anything. He glanced down to see Julian looking up at him expectantly.
"Yeah," Derek started, "he's not what I'd..."
The figure on the cot whipped his head around and Derek stopped. For a moment, it felt like everything stopped. His heart stopped beating, he stopped breathing. All that Derek could hear was the low drone of an ancient heating system, pushing stale air through rickety vents.
For the first time in five days, Spencer Reid was looking back at him.
His face, framed by raggedy brown hair, was splotched on one side with deep purple bruises. His eyes were rimmed with dark circles and his jaw was covered with patchy stubble. Derek could see now that his hands were cuffed in front of him.
Derek's adam's apple bobbed in his throat, his eyes locked on Reid's. A silent conversation passed between them: "I'm here, Kid. We found you." "I knew you would."
Derek started to move towards Reid, instincts taking over. But Reid shook his head slightly and Derek remembered where they were.
He coughed and blew out a puff of air before looking down at Julian. "Are you sure this guys a fed?" he asked, finally.
Reid inhaled.
"Yeah, I know, right? Total fucking pussy," Julian scoffed.
Derek clenched his fists again.
Julian continued, oblivious to anything else going on in the room, "But yeah, he's FBI, I guess. Heard he was an easy get. We're looking for buyers now. If anyone wants to buy a bitch like that."