Who: Spencer Reid and Jason Gideon. What: Their first session... and it's a little awkward. Where: Reid's office. When: Late Tuesday afternoon. Rating: Possibly a PG-13, depending.
He hated this.
It wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to be watching over Gideon, offering him advice, psycho-therapy, warm words, hope, a light at the end of the tunnel. That wasn't the way this worked, that wasn't Gideon's place in Reid's life. He was there to offer Reid advice, psycho-therapy, warm words, hope, and a light at the end of the tunnel - not the other way around. Gideon had always been a pillar of strength, a father figure for the entire team alongside their Unit Chief, Agent Hotchner, someone they could all rely on to pull them through and keep them on the right track. He always kept his head, even when those around him were losing theirs.
If Gideon lost all of that strength... what hope did any of the rest of them have?
Reid's hands were shaking as he prepped his office for the session. Photographs of the team that flashed across his monitor as a screensaver were shut down as he flipped the screen off, refusing to give him another chance to dissociate. It was hard enough that he had to see Reid - awkward little Spencer, all grown up and stronger than before, and holding down a job as a therapist of his own as well as a career in the B.A.U. - and he didn't want to push him any further.
He had checked over everything three or four times, worn dark colours so as not to incite any angry emotion in the other man (a grey shirt, burgundy tie and black cardigen hanging open around his skinny hips), and was pacing back and forth anxiously across his office floor as he waited for the man to arrive for his session, his hands brushing against the sides of his pants awkwardly, fingers tensed.
He and Hotch hadn't really spoken about it. Everytime Reid wanted to mention it, to anyone, he froze up, stuttered for a few seconds, and promptly changed the subject. Hotch, Weetzie... oh man, Weetzie, he hadn't even told Weetzie yet that the mystery man in the hospital, the one who went simply by 'Jason', was in fact his former mentor and supervisor, Jason Gideon, legendary FBI criminal profiler. It was... it was a little too much to handle right now.
He continued to pace, checking the silver wristwatch that was strapped over the long sleeve of his cardigen. Two minutes. He looked up at the door, brown eyes large and round and afraid, like a deer caught in headlights. He was... scared. How could he sit and evaluate Gideon? How could he offer him theraputic words and medication? It was like watching a gazelle rip into a lion with its fangs. It wasn't the natural order of things.