Title: Profile of the Dead 10/?
Fandom: Criminal Minds which belongs to CBS.
Summary: "It's so good to meet you Spencer. I'm Francis." She leaned in and proceeded to hug him as well. The boys make it to Chicago, but things aren't doing so well for others.
Warnings: Language. Violence.
Notes: This may sound weird, but my dad also loves Criminal Minds. This chapter goes to him.
Cross posted to bau_fic, cm_slash and morganreid_cm.
One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six / Seven / Eight / Nine
"Elle, babe. It's David. How's it goin'?"
Elle sighed. The last thing she needed right now was Rossi on her back. He called almost every hour to see how the investigation was going. At this rate, she'd never get anything done.
"Mr. President, we don't have anything we didn't have last time you called."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I bugging you? I thought you could handle being my right hand man... well, woman. Maybe I should have given the job to a man."
"David, so help me. I am dealing with preparing the campaign for next year in case you forgot you're up for re-election. I am going over the new bill on mandatory electric fences around all public schools. Then you add on top of that looking into these people, and I"m a little bit overwhelmed."
"At least tell me you got names."
"So far all I've got is the name of the man they stayed with in California. He's Aaron Hotchner. Owns the store, no surprise there. No reason to suspect she told him."
"I don't care. I want them all gone. Got it?" Rossi hung up and Elle threw the phone across the room.
"Then why make me look into them asshole?" she yelled.
"Rossi again?" Harris asked quietly.
Elle tried to slow her breathing. She looked to Harris and smiled slowly. It always gave him the creeps. "Nathan, I need you on the jet in an hour. Mr. Hotchner needs to be dealt with."
"Right away Miss Greenway."
"I was expecting alot more the way you went on about the place," Reid said as he and Morgan waited to get through the checkpoint into Chicago.
"Be nice. Most cities took it hard," Morgan said. "People fending for themselves until the government came in. They're still cleaning up, recovering from the outbreak."
"How long until they get to the rest of the country, do you think?"
"Who knows? It'll be the big debate during the elections."
"Oh, politics. Boooring. Change the subject. What's your mom like?"
"I've told you about my family already."
"Tell me again. I have all the time in the world."
"Mr. Morgan? Mr. Reid?" asked one of the guards. His gun no longer pointed at their heads, he didn't really have to say they checked out.
"Yes, that's us," Morgan said as he gathered their things.
"You passed. Welcome to Chicago."
"Home sweet home," Reid said.
"We made it," Morgan said smiling. He started the bike and drove through the gate. As Reid had pointed out, buildings were desolate and gates everywhere didn't help the depressing feel of the town. It was home, though, and it was safe. They pulled up in the driveway of a pale yellow house about twenty minutes later.
"This is my mother's house," Morgan said as they headed to the door. "My sisters live further downtown."
He knocked on the door which flew open almost instantly.
"Derek!" the woman shouted embracing him. "You had me worried sick. You wrote weeks ago. What took you so long?"
"I'm sorry Mama," Morgan said as he returned the hug. "I had a few... obstacles along the way. Mama, this is Spencer Reid."
The woman finally let go of Morgan and looked over to Reid.
"It's so good to meet you Spencer. I'm Francis." She leaned in and proceeded to hug him as well. Reid stood there, frozen, for a moment and awkwardly returned the hug.
"Pleasure's all mine," he said.
"Well, don't just stand there. Come inside." She ushered the two men into the kitchen where something was cooking. "You're just in time. I was making meatloaf. You like meatloaf, don't you Spencer?"
Reid was practically drooling. "Yes, I love it."
Morgan laughed. "Neither of us have had a home cooked meal since we left California. Unless you count at the commune, but they were into tofu and wheatgrass."
"So, did you work with Derek in L.A.?" Francis asked as she took the meatloaf out of the oven.
"Oh no. I was a student at CalTech. Morgan picked me up when my truck broke down," Reid replied as his eyes followed the food.
"CalTech? Fascinating. What were you studying?"
"Psychology. Can I... Can I have a big piece?"
"Of course! There's more than enough to go around." Francis said. She set two extra places at the table and served the food. "I"m supposing you'll need a place to stay until you both get places of your own. I won't lie; I'd love the company. Your sisters hardly visit anymore."
"We'd really appreciate that Mama," Morgan said as he held Reid's hand. "Hopefully it won't take too long for us to find an apartment."
Francis smiled at her son. "Don't hurry on my behalf. You can use your old room. You'll hardly know I'm here. I just ask that you humor me and have dinner together."
"Mrs. Morgan, I will have every meal with you if you can cook anything as good as this meatloaf," Reid said with his mouth full.
"Please, call me Francis dear and thank you."
"I'm going to go back to P.D. and see if I can get my job back and Reid is going back to school," Morgan said.
"Sounds like you have it all planned out."
"We did have all that time. Talking about the future helped make it go faster." Morgan was not going to mention how it also helped them deal with the lose of a friend.
"Well, I"m glad you made it here safely."
Aaron Hotchner never killed a man. Zombies, yes. He didn't go out looking for ones to shoot, but sometimes he did have to take out some that gathered around his store.
Sure, he had held a gun in the face of his fellow (living) man. Once when Morgan and Reid stayed and then another time when Emily, Penelope and J.J. stopped in.
He had never really feared for his life. He just had to protect his interests. This time he was afraid he might have to actually fire his gun. A jet with the president's seal landed about a mile away and now a black, armored SUV drove up to his store. There was no way they came all the way to California for ammunition.
A boy, no older than sixteen, emerged from the SUV carrying a large, silver pistol. He had a dead look in his eyes as he approached the front of the store. Hotchner wondered how they could have thought they were being subtle as he put a bullet in the kid's head.
Time to call Penelope.