Criminal Minds Fanfic

by spinner

Dr. Goodfoot

A strange and elegant creature

Who only lives if you love her

Invites you to swim in her river

And leaves you under the earth –

 Primitive Radio Gods 

Reid took off his coat and hung it up by the door, sliding the locks into place without a sound.  Hotch had oiled them again.  Reid could smell WD-40 all over the hinges and locks both.  If he hadn’t been feeling so damned miserable at the moment, he would have been genuinely touched by Aaron’s care and comfort. 

Spencer turned around from the door, feeling like there was a hole through his entire chest.  He set his bag on the floor under the coats.  He thumbed up Mouse’s last message on his phone and read it again.

moving to seattle today – i hate my life – never cutting my hair again

Reid sat down on the floor in the foyer and felt the world fall in around him.   He put away his phone and ran his hands back through his hair.  He couldn’t decide between a tumbler full of gin or a good long cry.  He might have both.  It would be therapeutic.

A skittering of noise brought the world back into focus.  Reid was on his feet with his gun in one hand, flashlight in the other, arms locked forward and front.  He moved into the hallway and the dining room, scanning slowly.  A deep rumble of humor sounded from the staircase above him, and he tilted the gun skyward.

“I am very impressed, Dr. Reid.  I would not have guessed you had such tremendous reaction time.”

Blue eyes were in the center of the light beam.  Reid removed the safety from his gun, aiming directly at his target. 

“Who are you?” Reid demanded.   There was a groan of pain from the kitchen.

“Don’t worry.  I did not hurt her.”

“Spaulding!?” Reid shouted.  The figure slowly climbed up and flipped the switch for the light on the landing.   Reid recognized him at once, of course.  Max Volchenkov stood on the stairs.  The bodyguard was smiling.  He was holding a feathery cat toy.  Reid lowered his gun and put it away, unsure what to make of this. 

“Up close this way, you really do look like Davydov.  It creeps up my spine, the very thought there could be two of that evil man.”

“What is this all about?” Reid growled, moving into the kitchen as Max came down the stairs.  Reid knelt down and removed the gag from around Lieutenant Spaulding’s mouth, touching her forehead, untying her hands.  He flipped on the light in the kitchen and the dining room as Max came closer. 

“I like her.  She is quite the spitfire,” Max complimented the furious lieutenant. 

“Go to hell,” Spaulding growled, rubbing the back of her head and stumbling to her feet.

“I am going to Seattle, which is going to very nearly be Hell, because Myshka is upset, and when Myshka is upset, the mistress is upset, and matters have been complicated somewhat with recent developments.  I came only to bring Dr. Reid a present from Mouse.”

Max gave Reid the cat toy, turned, and headed for the front door.   He might as well have handed Reid a beating heart for all the puzzlement on the young doctor’s face.   A small black form with one white foot darted from the tv room and ran across the dining room.  He was chasing a ball, back arched, eyes ablaze with the thrill of the chase.  

“There he is,” Max commented without turning around.  “Myshka wants you to watch the small menace until she returns to Washington.  If she can return to Washington.  Is this acceptable?  If not, I can leave it on the side of the road.  I have no fondness for this cat.  He is full of wickedness and the mean spirits,” Max scolded. 

Spencer reached down and picked up the lean animal, protectively stroking his fur, tickling his one white foot with pink toes.  Dr. Goodfoot purred and licked Reid’s cheek.  Goody smelled like Mouse, and memories washed back over Reid mercilessly.  

“All right,” Max said, standing next to the front door.  “I see you have made friends with the beast.  I take back the mean things I said about him.    I might have been testing you.  Let us assume so.  A word to the wise though?  Never turn your back on him.”

“Bit like you then, isn’t he?!” Spaulding shouted from the kitchen.  She was holding an ice pack to her head.   Max slid a Glock 17 across the foyer and it came to rest in the middle of the dining room under the table and between the chairs.

“Good night, Dr. Reid.   Good night, adorable spitfire.   Nice piece, if a tad heavy for your grip.  Might I recommend a Ruger instead?  My apologies for the bumps and bruises.   No hard feelings?”

Max opened the front door and was gone.   Dr. Goodfoot gave Reid a tentative look, and meowed.   Spencer smiled through the tears.  He felt a form near to his back.  A hand rubbed his shoulder.  He dried his face and tried to stop crying.   

“You all right?” Spaulding asked. 

Reid nodded, drying his face again. 

“God, I hate Russians.  He got the jump on me when I had my back turned,” Spaulding moaned.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Reid promised unsuccessfully.   

“Who is this unhappy creature?” she asked.

“Dr. Goodfoot,” Spencer replied.   “My daughter’s cat.”

more to come

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