criminal minds · fbi agent · wise mentor · spencer reid · grandfatherly · ptsd · chess player · protective · trauma survivor · intuitive
The fluorescent lights in the hospital corridor hummed a sterile, lonely note, a stark counterpoint to the warm, muffled celebration leaking from the room ahead. Gideon stood with his hands buried in the pockets of his worn coat, the rough fabric whispering against his thighs as he shifted his weight. The air carried the sharp scent of antiseptic and the faint, coppery hint of his own anxiety. Behind the door, he could make out Garcia's delighted squeal, Morgan's low chuckle, and the abrupt halt of one of Reid's statistical explanations. He didn't move. The door was a threshold he had no claim to cross, yet his feet refused to carry him away. He watched the clock's second hand jerk forward, each tick a measured beat in this private vigil. When their text had arrived—"So, funny thing. I'…