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Description
Bravery is the capacity to perform properly, even when scared half to death.
-Omar N. Bradley

---

"You're not scared of me?" he asked.

Spencer Reid's face was blank, looking right up at Albert Wesker rather placidly. "After being drugged, tortured, and infected with a mutated form of anthrax, there's not a lot that really scares me anymore so much as disturbs me. There's a distinct different between the two words, if you're so inclined to know. Being disturbed isn't being frightened of the material you're being presented wi—"

In the blink of an eye, Wesker loomed over the young man and made a sort of angry noise in the back of his throat. Reid swallowed hard, looking up at him and watching as the tyrant slipped off his sunglasses. He found himself staring at a pair of yellow eyes, almost glowing like a wildfire in Nevada, but simmering like some pot of water he'd left on the stove for too long. He knew Wesker's file from the inside out—what could make him tick, what could keep him calm… but he knew there was definitely more behind the man than paperwork.

"You going to kill me?" the young man asked quietly. "With my own mind?"

Wesker licked his lips, tilting his head and offering him a wry grin. "You know, as tempting as that sounds," he murmured, stroking his finger under the man's chin, "I don't think I would be so satisfied by such a death. Surely, you can think of something a little bit better. Perhaps if you were… in a bit of a bind, then you could merely beg for it. I could be merciful… end it all for you."

Reid didn't say anything, watching Wesker quietly with a hand slipping down to his gun and silently berating himself. Maybe it wasn't such a smart idea to go up against one of the crazier scientists in the world—one that had some powers that were not very human. He still couldn't believe it for himself. All Wesker had done was inject some crazy virus into his body, and well, the rest was history. "I'm not alone."

"Oh?"

He closed his eyes, swallowing and hearing his voice grow almost faint. "Agent Hotchner is…"

Without so much as a sound, Wesker tilted his head and smiled eerily before slipping behind Reid and whispering in his ear. "He's in—what are those words?"

Reid's eyes snapped open, his breathing hitching. Oh god.

"No…"

With a rather nasty grin, Wesker walked towards the older man tied to the chair and glanced at a silent Spencer Reid with a gun in his hands. "You shoot me, you may just miss, Doctor. And hit the man who's led your team to victory… until today." He folded his arms, circling him and leaning over to whisper so delicately in his ear once again. "You lose. You. Lose."

Reid didn't budge. Maybe they got some of that profile wrong. Maybe they didn't realize this would actually happen. It never really had before. But he knew they got at least one thing right. "Actually, you're very wrong," he murmured, "in all your assumptions. I won't miss. I haven't lost yet. And… you're not really a god."

Wesker merely grinned. "No, I'm not."

"You're—you're scared." His voice grew stronger. "Scared that… that he'll come find us. Because you have his sister."

The snort couldn't be missed. "Do I?"

"You wouldn't be sweating, wouldn't be holding your temper. You wouldn't be standing behind me to make sure I only looked at H-Hotch. And I bet you anything… your eyes are burning through my head right now, and you wish you could shut me up for good."

Wesker laughed softly. Dangerously. "…you are good at that."

Reid couldn't help but smile slightly. "So I'm told."

Description
Bravery is the capacity to perform properly, even when scared half to death.
-Omar N. Bradley

---

"You're not scared of me?" he asked.

Spencer Reid's face was blank, looking right up at Albert Wesker rather placidly. "After being drugged, tortured, and infected with a mutated form of anthrax, there's not a lot that really scares me anymore so much as disturbs me. There's a distinct different between the two words, if you're so inclined to know. Being disturbed isn't being frightened of the material you're being presented wi—"

In the blink of an eye, Wesker loomed over the young man and made a sort of angry noise in the back of his throat. Reid swallowed hard, looking up at him and watching as the tyrant slipped off his sunglasses. He found himself staring at a pair of yellow eyes, almost glowing like a wildfire in Nevada, but simmering like some pot of water he'd left on the stove for too long. He knew Wesker's file from the inside out—what could make him tick, what could keep him calm… but he knew there was definitely more behind the man than paperwork.

"You going to kill me?" the young man asked quietly. "With my own mind?"

Wesker licked his lips, tilting his head and offering him a wry grin. "You know, as tempting as that sounds," he murmured, stroking his finger under the man's chin, "I don't think I would be so satisfied by such a death. Surely, you can think of something a little bit better. Perhaps if you were… in a bit of a bind, then you could merely beg for it. I could be merciful… end it all for you."

Reid didn't say anything, watching Wesker quietly with a hand slipping down to his gun and silently berating himself. Maybe it wasn't such a smart idea to go up against one of the crazier scientists in the world—one that had some powers that were not very human. He still couldn't believe it for himself. All Wesker had done was inject some crazy virus into his body, and well, the rest was history. "I'm not alone."

"Oh?"

He closed his eyes, swallowing and hearing his voice grow almost faint. "Agent Hotchner is…"

Without so much as a sound, Wesker tilted his head and smiled eerily before slipping behind Reid and whispering in his ear. "He's in—what are those words?"

Reid's eyes snapped open, his breathing hitching. Oh god.

"No…"

With a rather nasty grin, Wesker walked towards the older man tied to the chair and glanced at a silent Spencer Reid with a gun in his hands. "You shoot me, you may just miss, Doctor. And hit the man who's led your team to victory… until today." He folded his arms, circling him and leaning over to whisper so delicately in his ear once again. "You lose. You. Lose."

Reid didn't budge. Maybe they got some of that profile wrong. Maybe they didn't realize this would actually happen. It never really had before. But he knew they got at least one thing right. "Actually, you're very wrong," he murmured, "in all your assumptions. I won't miss. I haven't lost yet. And… you're not really a god."

Wesker merely grinned. "No, I'm not."

"You're—you're scared." His voice grew stronger. "Scared that… that he'll come find us. Because you have his sister."

The snort couldn't be missed. "Do I?"

"You wouldn't be sweating, wouldn't be holding your temper. You wouldn't be standing behind me to make sure I only looked at H-Hotch. And I bet you anything… your eyes are burning through my head right now, and you wish you could shut me up for good."

Wesker laughed softly. Dangerously. "…you are good at that."

Reid couldn't help but smile slightly. "So I'm told."