[ true, he is a sadist, and true, he has many times planned killings in excruciating detail and with even greater frequency enjoyed them, but a striking amount of them came as orders. the expectation of him is to kill, and to kill quickly, quietly, and efficiently. refusal is not an option unless he can send his assassins out to do the job instead, and often, he cannot. they are not trained the same way, not conditioned to function as is required. it's kill or be killed, in truth— though his willingness to kill is, of course, what makes him so effective, and what makes that threat moot. but he knows that it is a threat that lingers, and it lurks behind the orders he doesn't want to follow, the menial tasks and the verbal barbs meant to humiliate and wound him that he has to shoulder. he does it all out of necessity. and behind the sadism, killing is no different. he cannot refuse. it is always out of underlying necessity.
or, it was. before jessica. he did not have to take her life with his own hands. he never had to do more than provide a plan to have her and the child disposed of. but he wanted to. he still wants to.
even he is not immune to fantasy.
but— he smiles. it is an open, yet quiet gesture; all at once a challenge and an admission, a playful "you got me." he knows very well that reid knows. ] Ah, but we are of different times. We witness different crimes.
[ or perhaps what he should say is that they perceive the same crimes differently. all the same, he doesn't expect understanding, he doesn't expect revulsion, and he especially doesn't expect absolution, but perhaps what he does expect is professionalism. privacy. he senses the bond between reid and hotch, and it sets him on edge just a bit to think of in moments like these. as he looks up at reid, scrutinizes him silently, watches his reactions, there is the faintest measure of trust in his eyes. much of it is false, but the barest percent is very real.