The temporary command building hums with movement.
Radios crackle. Agents move between tables covered in maps and laptops while teams cycle updates through the perimeter channels. Outside, the operation continues to unfold with steady precision.
Across the room, Chief Reid coordinates the tactical units.
Even from this distance it’s easy to see the structure she brings to the scene. Operators move when she signals, positions shift when she speaks, and the flow of the entire operation adjusts around her decisions.
Morgan leans against the edge of the table beside me.
“You’re doing that proud husband stare again.”
“I’m reviewing operational efficiency.”
“Uh huh.”
Prentiss chuckles quietly nearby.
Before I can respond, two agents from another FBI unit approach our table.
One of them points at me.
“You’re Dr. Reid, right?”
“Yes.”
The taller one nods.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
His partner glances toward the command floor where Chief Reid is directing a team adjustment.
“So you’re her Husband.”
I don’t respond immediately.
“Yes,” I say.
The agents exchange a look.
“Huh.”
The second agent folds his arms casually.
“That’s gotta be interesting.”
Morgan goes very still beside me.
The first agent grins.
“Yeah. I mean… no offense, man, but I’ve worked around chiefs like that before.”
His partner snorts.
“Bet home life is… intense.”
Morgan quietly covers his mouth.
Prentiss suddenly finds a stack of paperwork very interesting.
I remain silent.
The taller agent keeps going.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he says, gesturing vaguely toward the operations floor. “She clearly runs things around here.”
His partner smirks.
“Yeah.”
Then he glances back at me.
“But I mean… someone like that?”
He shrugs.
“Usually means the husband’s not exactly running the house.”
The two of them laugh softly.
Morgan mutters under his breath.
“Oh no.”
I take a slow breath.
Then I look at them.
“What you’re experiencing right now,” I say calmly, “is misogyny.”
The laughter stops.
The agents blink.
I continue speaking, tone perfectly level.
“You’ve encountered a woman in a position of authority who demonstrates competence, discipline, and operational control.”
I gesture lightly toward the command floor.
“And instead of recognizing those qualities as leadership, you’ve interpreted them as aggression.”
The agents shift uncomfortably.
“I’m very happy where I am,” I continue.
“My Wife is an exceptional tactical commander, and an amazing Spouse.”
I pause.
“We’ve been married seven years.”
Morgan raises his eyebrows slightly.
“And I would never stand here and say anything about her that wasn’t accurate.”
The taller agent clears his throat.
“I didn’t mean—”
“What you’re actually observing,” I continue calmly, “is the result of your own unit making several procedural mistakes earlier today.”
They stare at me.
“Those mistakes required her to assert stronger command presence in order to stabilize the situation.”
I tilt my head slightly.
“So the behavior you’re interpreting as hostility…”
I let the sentence hang for a moment.
“…is actually competence correcting your team’s lack of coordination.”
Morgan bites down on a laugh.
Prentiss turns her back completely now.
The agents look like they’d rather be anywhere else.
I finish calmly.
“Her accomplishments, authority, and titles do not diminish mine.”
I clasp my hands lightly in front of me.
“And I’m not threatened by them.”
The room is very quiet.
“I applaud them.”
Another pause.
“Frankly,” I add, “I’m extremely proud of her.”
The agents exchange another look.
“…Right.”
“Didn’t realize.”
Morgan immediately steps forward.
“Gentlemen,” he says cheerfully, clapping one of them on the shoulder.
“You just got the Reid lecture.”
They retreat quickly toward the far side of the command room.
Morgan watches them go.
Then he turns slowly toward me.
“…Man.”
Prentiss shakes her head.
“That was brutal.”
Morgan grins.
“Reid just shut down misogyny with a statistics tone.”
I pick up the operational file again.
"I was simply correcting misinformation."