100. Childish

Author: rogueandkurt

Rating: K+

Fandom: Criminal Minds

It's been a long time. I was working on pieces for other fandoms for a while, but I'm hopefully done witih my C.M. hiatus and ready to get back to finishing my Reid FF100 challenge.

This is a piece that was half-finished on my harddrive for a year. It's set after 'Sex, Birth, and Death', but just before 'Profiler, Profiled'. I was trying to reconcile the changes Hotch's character goes through with regards to his team in the second season (from Elle leaving to fretting over not teaching Reid enough in 'Revelations' and beyond). For anyone who cares, I got the idea after re-reading 'Peter Pan'. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Anything recognizable isn't mine.

"When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things."

- Corinthians 13:11

Agent Hotchner closed the door to his office, turning to face the terrified subordinate standing in front of his desk.

"Hotch, can I just say-"

"I think that you would be best served by listening right now, Reid," he cut in, frowning at the skinny young man as he moved around to the other side of his desk. He shook his head, holding up the offending object for both of them to see. "I don't think I have to tell you how inappropriate this is. This is a place of serious business. How you behave reflects not only on the rest of the team, but on the Bureau as well."

Reid swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, sir. I- I was merely demonstrating a physics law for Morgan-"

"You were making bottle rockets in the middle of the bullpen," Hotch interrupted loudly, placing the empty film canister on his desk with conviction. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "Now, I understand the need to let off steam once in a while, but there is a time and a place, and this sort of childish behaviour will not be tolerated. Are we clear?"

Spencer nodded, his face white.

"Yes, sir," he replied meekly. He knew a dismissal when he heard one.

Hotch watched as the young agent scurried out of the office, pulling the door closed behind him. He sighed, sitting heavily in his chair and dropping the film canister into his desk drawer. He didn't enjoy reprimanding his agents, but he knew that the general consensus among Bureau higher-ups was that he was far too lenient with his team - that he'd allowed them to become too informal with him and with each other. Between Garcia and Morgan's constantly-escalating flirtation and the 'top secret' date Reid and JJ had gone on last year, there'd been more than one agent quirking an eyebrow in the BAU's direction. It was important that each of them understand the level of professionalism their job required.

He shook his head. He knew that Reid was by far the youngest member of their team, and for the most part, he displayed a level of maturity well-beyond his years. But there were certain incidents - like the display today in the bullpen - that made him wonder if the Bureau had really been right to bring him on to the team at such a young age.

"You gave Reid a talking-to."

Aaron looked up to find Gideon standing in the doorway; he hadn't even heard the door open. The unit chief hid his surprise, busying himself with the task of rearranging the files on his desk.

"Yes," he replied tersely with his eyes on his paperwork, not bothering to question how the older profiler knew what had transpired. "He needs to understand that this is a place of serious work. That kind of conduct reflects poorly on the entire team. Just because he's the youngest doesn't mean he can get away with behaving like a child."

Gideon watched him from the door, his expression unreadable.

"Why are you in such a hurry to make him like you?"

Hotch glanced up sharply but Jason had already removed himself from the room, pulling the door closed behind him. His forehead creased. Make Reid like him? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Was it so wrong of him to expect Reid to take his job seriously? They dealt with the very worst of humanity on a daily basis, faced down kidnappers and serial killers alike. Peoples' lives were in their hands - it wasn't the type of profession one could afford to take lightly. Besides, he thought, there were far worse people Reid could model his behaviour after.

Of course, Gideon had always had a bit of a blind spot where Reid was concerned. They'd never really grown out of the mentor/protégé dynamic they'd started with and everyone knew that Gideon viewed Reid as a second son. Relationships like that could easily fall into a pattern, and it was no wonder that Jason had a hard time seeing past the image of the attention-starved eighteen-year-old he'd fostered all the way to the FBI.

But that had been six years ago, and Reid was no longer a boy. It was in his best interests to learn to take things a little more seriously, and coddling him would only further stunt his maturation. Hotch knew that Reid had had an unorthodox childhood, but that was no excuse to let him behave inappropriately now.

He stood, shaking his head. Gideon was no longer in charge of their team, and the indulgent attitude he had towards Reid needed to stop if the younger agent ever wanted to grow in his career. He walked around his desk with a mindset to pay Gideon a visit when he caught sight of his team through the blinds on his window.

Hotch paused as he looked - really looked - at the faces of his subordinates in the bullpen. JJ bustled about the various desks, an armful of cases balanced on one hip, her eyes tired and dark under the thick makeup she'd used to cover the circles. Morgan was slouched in his desk, shoulders slumped as he finished the paperwork from their child murder case. Hunched studiously over a pile of consults from a disgruntled Atlanta P.D., Reid was rubbing his eyes wearily, nodding at something Prentiss had said. And somewhere, in the depths of her bat cave, he knew Garcia sat surrounded by a wall of colours as she catalogued the video evidence from the Newark Rapist case. His perspective shifted as he caught sight of his own reflection in the window, his eyes darker and more serious than the rest of his team combined.

Quietly, he sat again, thinking about the weariness in Elle's eyes after she'd returned to work. They dealt with very worst of humanity, all right, and it certainly didn't come without its costs.

The first day of Bureau training had drilled in to them that most people were not cut out for their job - some just didn't have the stomach for it, while others were made of tougher stuff. But the truth was, there was very little that separated those that made it from those that didn't. One case too many, one lost friend too many, one failed marriage too many, and anyone in their right mind would snap under the pressure. He'd certainly seen his share of it, and Elle, tough as she was, had been just one more in a long line of examples. No one could deal with what they did day after day and not take a bit of it home with them afterwards.

No one...

He frowned, considering Gideon's words.

Someone had once predicted it would take Reid six years to reach the jaded mental state where he would consider taking another life in the name of justice. Hotch wondered now if that wasn't just a little optimistic; it had only taken Elle one.

He closed his eyes, his fingers massaging his forehead. He remembered the months after Elle's resignation, how Reid had looked like a kicked puppy every time he set eyes on her empty desk. He'd been almost hyper vigilant for weeks afterward, glancing up in hopeful anticipation every time the glass doors of the BAU swung open, only to be met with crushing disappointment when no sign of their missing agent was to be found.

Things had been worse, in some ways, after Nathan Harris' suicide attempt, Reid's eyes haunted and dark and brimming with thoughts he confided to no one. Even the combined power of Morgan and JJ hadn't been enough to bring him out of his funk, his usual rambling statistics traded for quiet brooding. And then there was the time they'd unwittingly stumbled upon Frank's RV slaughterhouse. He thought about the horrified and repulsed expression on Reid's face - the closest he'd ever come to seeing the younger profiler get sick at a scene.

Four years of crime scene photos and victim reports flashed before his eyes, each one as chilling as the last. It wasn't as if Reid hadn't had to deal with the same terrors as the rest of the team - he'd been right there all along, facing those horrors each day without complaint.

Few people managed to preserve any sort of innocence or equilibrium in their line of work. Losing yourself in the minds of mankind's most depraved citizens darkened your soul in ways that were nearly impossible to describe. They all needed some way of distancing themselves from their work, so why should it matter if Reid's way was keeping that small piece of childlike excitement about him?

He pictured his reflection again, imagining the same dark circles and air of cynicism marring Reid's young face. It wasn't a pleasant image. Their job had a knack for making jaded even the most idealistic of agents, and their team was well on its way. Gideon was right - Reid would get there in his own time. Everyone did. Why would he want to do anything to get him there faster?

Hotch stayed at his desk for the remainder of the day, his thoughts troubled as he did his best to focus on his paperwork. The light outside the window had dimmed considerably when he next looked up.

He glanced out the office window again into the near-empty bullpen. Most of the other agents had gone home for the night, but Reid was still sitting at his desk, working on a pile of files that he noticed was quite disproportionate to everyone else's. He had no doubt that the other profilers had continued their habit of slipping extra files into his pile, but the younger agent never complained to him about it.

Silently, he gathered his things, pausing only momentarily to open the drawer of his desk.

Reid didn't seem to notice as he opened the door to his office, walking purposefully down the stairs. The genius' nose was buried so deeply in his work that Hotch wondered if anything short of an earthquake would disturb him.

He placed the empty film canister on top of the file he was working on. Reid glanced up, confused.

"Sir?"

The tiniest fraction of a smile fought its way onto Hotch's lips as he met his eyes.

"You know, I'll bet if you used less water, you'd get a lot more distance," he suggested casually, gesturing toward the canister.

Reid blinked.

Hotch patted him on the shoulder as he passed, making his way out of the empty bullpen.

"Go home, Reid. Those files can wait until tomorrow."

"All children, except one, grow up."

- J. M. Barrie

Well, there you go. Nothing mind-blowing, but a way of transitioning myself back into writing for C.M. again. I look forward to reacquainting myself with the fandom again.

Keep Smiling! ;)

rogueandkurt