What You Know vs. What You Feel

Chapter 1 – A Single Day

Oh my GOSH, I can't believe that this is up so soon! I had planned on waiting awhile; maybe finishing a few oneshots that have been floating around my brain, but all of your reviews spurred me on!

If you have clicked on this without reading What You Say vs. What You Mean, you need to go read that first otherwise you will have no clue as to what is going on.

Oh, and for all the people who want Ethan's head, this first chapter will probably piss you off something terrible!

"A single day is enough to make us a little larger or, another time, a little smaller."Paul Klee

"What the fuck do you mean you don't have enough to charge him?" Morgan yelled into the phone, almost standing up from his seat at the table in the breakfast nook. "You have DNA and fingerprints placing him at the scene, you have blood evidence and a full S.A.E. What more could you possibly need?"

It hadn't been more than an hour or so after Morgan and Reid had returned home from the hospital that they received a call saying that Ethan had been arrested. Seventy-two hours later, however, he was apparently walking out of the police station.

Detective Fowler from the DCPD sighed heavily on the other end of the line. "The knife, Agent Morgan, we need the knife, and if he ditched it in a trashcan or dumpster somewhere, it's long gone by now. I'm sure that by way of occupation you are all too familiar with situations like this. The evidence that our CSI collected at the scene proves that two friends met for drinks one night and things got sexual. But until we believe we could prove beyond reasonable doubt in a court of law that what occurred was rape and not just rough consensual sex, than I'm sorry to say it, but Ethan walks."

Silence hung on the line. Morgan hated it but he knew that the detective was right. Without solid, indisputable proof, Ethan was going to get off scot-free. He was probably on his flight back to New Orleans at that very moment.

Then the detective delivered even more news that Morgan did not want to hear. "There is one more matter, Agent Morgan. You're surely aware that your agency requires us to send a full report of this incident to Dr. Reid's immediate supervisor."

"It's our team's vacation week. Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner is in New York. He won't be home until Friday or at his desk until Monday."

"Which is why the report has already been sent directly to Timothy Lovelady."

No, no, no, anyone but Lovelady, Morgan thought with dread. Timothy Lovelady was the acting Section Chief (1), and it was safe to say that no one was a fan of the man whose promotion was only months away from becoming permanent. Morgan let out a defeated sigh. "I guess I can be expecting a call soon, then."

"I'm sorry, Agent Morgan. I tried to convince the Captain to wait until Monday to get a hold of Agent Hotchner, but he's a stickler for protocol if I ever saw one. I guess that's why they pay him the big bucks."

"Yeah, same with Lovelady. Thanks for the heads up, though."

Morgan hung up and rubbed his scalp. What am I going to tell Spencer?

He didn't have to worry about that for long. He sensed something somehow and turned in his seat to see Reid standing there. The exhaustion of several nights of choppy, wrestles sleep showed on his stubbled face. His slender frame was wrapped in a fleece blanket that he clutched to his chest to hold it close around him.

"How much did you hear?" Morgan asked.

Reid's shoulders slumped. "Only nine out of every forty-three in one hundred reported sexual assaults lead to prosecution. We shouldn't be surprised."

"Surprised? No." Morgan admitted. "Devastated and pissed off? Defiantly."

Reid nodded slightly. The interviews, the statements and the horrific S.A.E. and rape kit had all been in vein if Ethan could never be charged. Reid felt almost as violated by this knowledge as by the assault itself.

Twelve out of every forty-three in reported rapes lead to arrest. This was not worth what I had to go thru to even get this far!

"And the report has already been sent to Lovelady?"

Morgan nodded. He couldn't be certain, but he thought for sure he heard Reid mutter the words "fucking excellent" under his breath.

Reid turned to leave. "I'm going back to bed." He wished he could curl up in bed and never, ever get back up.

"It's almost noon. Aren't you hungry?" Morgan asked. They had almost had a less than horrible day yesterday and Morgan hoped that he could salvage what was left of the morning.

"No," Reid snapped a bit more harshly than he had intended.

"Come on kid. You barely ate last night." Reid din not reply, but did not leave either. "Look, I can't force you to eat if you don't want to, but if you don't get something besides coffee-flavored sugar in that stomach, you're bound to make yourself sick."

"I guess now that I think about it I am a bit hungry," Reid replied with his back still turned.

"Alright. Why don't you go lay back down for a bit while I fix us some breakfast."

Reid nodded and, with a yawn, returned to the bedroom.

Morgan decided to make quick work of his signature deluxe breakfast sandwiches, which consisted of fried eggs, bacon, Swiss cheese, tomato and romaine lettuce on toasted whole-grain bread. He remembered the first time he had prepared this meal for his lover of then only three months. Reid hadn't thought it a very breakfast-like meal, but he had ended up loving it and even requesting it quite often in the years to come.

Morgan smiled at the memory and hoped that Reid would find some pleasure and comfort from his favorite morning meal.

WIANWIANWIANWIAN

He stepped out into the sun for the first time in three days. He took a deep breath thru his nose and let it out in a satisfied sigh. He knew the cops would have nothing on him without the knife, which he had wrapped in a trash bag and abandoned in a dumpster behind the convention hall. His head was no pumpkin after all. He may have only had one day of FBI training under his belt, but he had friends on both sides of the law. He knew how things worked.

"Mr. Betchan,(2)" a voice behind him called. He turned to see his attorney who had flown in the previous night.

"There's nobody important within earshot, Paul. Cut the formal crap." Paul Marquis was not only Ethan's go-to lawyer, but also his long time friend, occasionally with "benefits." Of course the local PD could not be allowed to know the details of their relationship.

Paul ruffled his own unruly light-auburn hair. "Damn it, Ethan, you really got into it this time, didn't you?"

Ethan scoffed. "Yeah, no thanks to the brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid."

"Forget about the snitching little G-man, Ethan. Come back to New Orleans with me. Today. Right now. The earliest flight is in one hour. We might be able to make it if we hurry."

Ethan gnawed his lip as he did when he was contemplating something. He took his phone out of his pocket and just looked at it, smiling.

"What's that little look on your scruffy old face for?" Paul asked rhetorically.

Ethan smiled wider and slipped the phone back into his pocket. He looked at the inquisitive attorney who was now lighting a cigarette. Paul held the pack out to Ethan, who declined the offer with a slight wave of the hand.

"Oh, yeah. You won't smoke because it turns your finger nails yellow." The smoker laughed and shook his head. "Obsessive compulsive. Always obsessed with your damn hands."

Ethan was, in fact, obsessed with his hands. They were always clean with the nails trimmed immaculately. He even shaved his knuckle hair daily.

"You know you're obsessed with my hands, too," Ethan jested.

Paul smirked and blew smoke out his nose. "Maybe just a little."

"Let's get the fuck out of here," Ethan prompted. "We can go back to the hotel and leave tomorrow. I need a few decent Z's. And a drink. Besides, I want to show you something." Ethan winked and distinctly patted the pocket that held his $400 smartphone.

"Should I be nervous?" Paul asked as they started walking towards his rental car.

"You know what they say. There are three people a man should never lie to: his priest, his shrink, and his lawyer. Well, I don't go to church or therapy, so if I lie to you, I'm in a world of hurt, now aren't I?"

"Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken."Jane Austen

(1) In some countries, you haven't gotten season eight yet and may not know why Erin Straus is not the section chief anymore. Later chapters will spoil this as well as other events of season eight.

(2) Ethan's surname was never mentioned in cannon, but he needs one for this fic. I gave him the name of a co-worker whom I despise. FYI, we will be seeing A LOT of Paul Marquis as the story progresses.