Previous part of Hunger.

***

The ride to the hospital was a quick one, and while Garcia was practically running through the hospital corridors, Reid was careful to stay at the back of the group.

When they came into Morgan's room he was alone, his mother having gone to the cafeteria to give them some privacy.

"Hey…" Morgan smiled tiredly at them, his voice rough from disuse. He let his eyes sweep over them.

"Wow," he said. "You guys look like crap." Not that he looked much better himself. His skin tone was still a pasty gray and he'd lost weight. There were some small tremors in his body that he couldn't control and there were pain evident in the crinkles around his eyes.

"Well, some of us have actually been working, while you've been lying here, resting your lazy little butt," Elle said, a giant smile on her face.

"How're you feeling?" Hotchner asked as they moved around the bed, all except Reid who hovered by the door.

"I'm alive. From what I've heard, that's an accomplishment," Morgan said.

"Damn right it is. Don't scare us like that again, cupcake," Garcia said, the widest grin on her face as she leaned down and kissed his cheek.

"So what happened? The doctor said I suffered from an overdose. How's that possible?"

"It was in your bloody candy bar. I've told you over and over again that they are bad for your health," Elle said, but at the same time she pulled several chocolate bars out of her shoulder bag and put them on the bedside table. "For later," she said.

"How did they manage that? And who are they, by the way?" Morgan asked, hating the feeling of being so out of the loop.

"We don't know why. We have a few suspects," Hotchner said, "As to how, the unsub broke into your house and laced several of your candy bars with amphetamine. You really buy those things in bulk, don't you?"

"Well, it's cheaper, saves time. I think I remember eating a candy bar… We had lunch while putting the case to bed, right? I had a candy bar afterwards, didn't I?"

"You don't remember anything after that?" Reid asked incredulously, taking a step closer to the bed.

"Hey, man," Morgan said, smiling at him. What are you doing all the way over there?" Then he saw the looks the team was giving each other. "What? What happened afterwards?"

"Nothing," Reid said quickly. "You just collapsed. Scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry, man. Hey, what happened to your lip?"

Reid just shrugged.

"So…" Morgan dragged the word out, clearly suspecting that they were hiding something from him. "You said something about suspects?"

"Yes. Do you feel up to some brainstorming?" Hotchner asked.

"I suppose."

And with that Hotchner decided to keep it as short as possible.

"Do you remember Michael Trenton, Lester Holt and Benjamin Barker?" he asked.

"Benny-B? Sure. Everybody knows Benny-B. And Trenton's a judge, isn't he? And Holt… Holt's a prosecutor in Chicago, right? Yeah, I remember those guys, but I haven't seen them in years. Why?"

"I'm sorry, but they are dead," JJ said sympathetically, putting her hand on his arm.

"Dead?" Morgan repeated incredulously.

"Yes, killed by the same unsub that tried to kill you," Gideon said.

Morgan looked confused. "Maybe it's the drugs, or maybe I'm just slow on the uptake, but why? I haven't seen or heard from any of them since I left Chicago."

"Listen," Gideon said, seeing that Morgan was beginning to wilt. "It's getting late. So how about if I come back tomorrow morning and catch you up on what we've got. But, before we go, do you remember Martin Fells or Henry Arden?"

Morgan's face darkened. "Yeah, I remember Fells. He killed my captain. Did he get out?"

"No, he's still incarcerated," Elle said. "We're looking for a woman taking revenge on behalf of a loved one."

"Then you're barking up the wrong tree," Morgan said, shaking his head slowly. "Fells' family couldn't wash their hands of him quickly enough. What did you say the other guy's name was?"

"Henry Arden," Gideon supplied.

"I'm…I'm not sure. It sounds familiar, but…"

"Why don't you sleep on it, tell me in the morning." Gideon motioned to the others to wrap their visit up.

"It's good to have you back with us," JJ said, squeezing his arm, and the others nodded in agreement, saying their own goodbyes.

"We'll go back to work for another couple of hours," Hotchner said, "but Garcia's gonna stay here with you tonight. Call if you think of anything, if you have any questions, if you need anything. Just… just call us. We'll stop by whenever we can."

They left, leaving only Garcia behind.

"So, you're supposed to take care of me, huh? Did you happen to bring a nurse uniform?" Morgan asked.

"Only the hat, honey pie. Only the hat."

---

Outside the door Gideon waved the others on, while taking a hold of Reid's arm to keep him where he was. Reid obediently stayed, but he refused to look at Gideon. He already knew what he was going to say.

"He's going to find out sooner or later, Reid. We're going to have to tell him."

"Why? What good will it do?"

"He deserves to know, and you know it. This isn't going away. He's going to be fine. Sooner or later he's going to be back at work. How are you going to deal with that?"

"He will just be hurt."

"I know," Gideon smiled gently, amazed that the young man could still feel empathy towards Morgan. "But he will hurt just as much no matter who tells him. We'll back off, let you make the decision as to when and where. But we can't, we won't, wait forever. If you want me to talk to him I will, but he needs to know."

"Agent Gideon, Agent Reid," Dr. Anderson came up to them. "I'm just on my way to check on Agent Morgan."

"Dr. Anderson," Gideon greeted him. Reid didn't say anything, but Dr. Anderson turned to him anyway.

"Agent Reid. If you have a moment, I can take those stitches out for you before you go. Your lip looks healed enough."

Reid self-consciously touched his still slightly swollen lip and looked at Gideon.

"Go ahead," the older man said. "I'll wait."

Reid followed Dr. Anderson to the nurses' station, where the doctor efficiently and quickly removed the stitches, and then prodded the lip a little.

"It looks fine. It'll probably be tender a little while longer, so I'd stay away from spicy food for another couple of days if I were you."

"No problem," Reid said. No problem indeed, the thought wryly to himself.

---

That night Reid sat at his table, a piece of toast and a banana in front of him. He stared at them contemplatively. How hard could it be? He'd eaten them both a hundred times. It was just toast. It was light food, easy food. The kind of food your mother put in front of you when you'd been sick.

He picked the toast up with two fingers, as if he were afraid that it would bite him, rather than the other way around. 'Come on already,' he chided himself. Resolutely he closed his eyes and took the smallest bite possible of the toast.

The reaction was immediate. It was there, it was back. The gun was pushing against his palate, making him choke. The taste of metal and gun oil exploded on his tongue. He threw himself over to the sink where he spit out the toast together with bile and what little liquid that still remained in his stomach.

He stood heaving by the sink. Apparently this would not be the day when he got to still his hunger pangs with real food. This had to stop, he knew that.

Too tired to care he filled his stomach with water, threw the toast in the trash, put the banana back into the fruit basket and headed off to bed.

---

The next morning Reid woke up feeling completely washed out. He almost fell asleep in the shower, and then again as he waited for his coffee to percolate. The caffeine, however, did help him to perk up enough to get to work on time.

Gideon and Elle were at the hospital, talking with Morgan, while the rest of them started going through the information that had gathered on the Fells and Arden families during the night.

As both Gideon and Morgan had predicted, the Fells family didn't contain anyone out for revenge. Having a family member convicted of murder was embarrassing and not something to be spoken about. Martin was the black sheep, already abandoned by those who'd loved him growing up.

So they concentrated on Arden. He'd grown up with a mother and two older sisters. His mother had died from cancer, only a month after his suicide. And the middle sister had fled to Australia and was trying to make a new life for herself far away from her grief.

That left the oldest sister, Kelly, alone. She was 39-years-old and still lived in the house where she'd grown up, where she'd nursed her dying mother. Everything fit the profile.

She worked in the secretarial pool at the County Clerk's Office. Hotchner had spoken with her boss over the phone and he'd informed them that Ms. Arden was an exemplary employee, who was currently a week and a half into a three week vacation. They hadn't heard from her, but they hadn't expected to either.

Garcia had been running her through the systems all morning. She'd looked into her credit cards, her bank records, put a trace on her cell phone and scanned airplane manifests, but so far she'd been invisible. Garcia had however detected a large withdrawal from her savings just before she disappeared, meaning that she could live off cash for a long time.

JJ had gotten the Chicago field office to search her house. They had met an elderly neighbor who was looking after Kelly's dogs and watering her plants. She'd had nothing but good things to say about her darling neighbor who was always so attentive and helpful.

When Elle and Gideon came back, they were still trying to get to know Kelly through her paper trails.

---

JJ opened her small bag of vending machine peanuts and inhaled deeply. This was comfort food and she planned to enjoy all twenty-six, salty, crispy peanuts in the bag.

On the way back to her office she saw Reid, who sat at his desk with the phone pressed to his ear, but he wasn't speaking. Instead he was idly playing with some paperclips on his desktop, his eyes far off into space.

She hesitated, she had phone calls of her own to make. But even though the room was bustling with people and activity, he looked so alone. Elle was in JJ's office, waiting for her to bring back the promised goodies, and Morgan's desk was dark and empty and it made Reid look like he was the only one there.

Without conscious control, JJ detoured and plunked herself down on the edge of Reid's desk.

"Hi, how's it going?" she said, eating a peanut.

Reid looked up, a little startled by her sudden appearance in his personal sphere.

"I'm trying to reach the detective that handled Judge Trenton's death, but I've been on hold for fifteen minutes now." He enviously watched as another peanut disappeared into her mouth.

"The department secretary put you on hold, right? I hope you were polite. Most of them are viciously protective of their detectives. If she comes back on…"

Was it her imagination or was Reid's eyes tracking the peanuts from the bag to her mouth?

"…Do you want some?" She held the bag out to him, but he held up his free hand and shook his head no, but she felt that his eyes said something else.

"Are you sure?" she pressed, shaking the bag under his nose, thinking that the smell would have the same effect on him as it did on her.

"No, I'm fine, really."

"I have potato chips too. They are really Elle's, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind…"

He once again held up his hand to her, but this time it was to dismiss her as his eyes shifted focus and he started speaking.

"Detective Lewis? Hello, my name is Dr. Spencer Reid and I'm calling from the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit…"

JJ left with a quiet wave. He was busy now, and so was she.

Reid watched her leave as he let his brain and mouth turn into automatic gear for a while. The smell of those peanuts had actually left him dizzy and had triggered another churning of hunger. Those were thankfully coming less and less frequently now. Intellectually he knew that not feeling hunger was a bad thing, but right now he was just relieved. Constant stomach pains made it so hard to think.

---

"This is ridiculous," Elle said, frustrated. "We can't find her anywhere. There's not a trace of her. I mean, we have people checking hotels and motels, but do you have any idea how many of those there are around here? And if she changed her hair color or something like that, she could stay anonymous for ever."

"How about a press release?" Gideon said.

"What do you want?" JJ asked. "A public announcement asking people to contact us it they've seen her?"

"No, the opposite. We know she's methodical and goal oriented. She's probably laying low somewhere, waiting to get the confirmation that she succeeded. For all she knows, Morgan might not even have eaten the candy bar yet. But if we go public, confirm the attack and then say that Morgan's going to be fine…"

"A trap…" Reid breathed.

Hotchner looked quizzically at Gideon. "You want to set a trap? You want the unsub to try again?"

"She wants him dead," Gideon said. "Let's give her a chance."

---

JJ worked fast, and by the next broadcast, all the major networks had adopted her statement into their headlines. The team stood around a TV that had been brought into the conference room and watched a stylized woman in a navy suit bait their trap.

"Tragedy struck at the FBI headquarters in Quantico last Friday. FBI Agent Derek Morgan, a highly respected profiler with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, went into a coma after having eaten a chocolate bar laced with high-grade amphetamine. For his team and the rest of the agents he works with, it's been an anxious couple of days, but luckily, Agent Morgan is now awake and is expected to make a full recovery. Agent Jennifer Jareau, the spokes person for the BAU has informed us that Agent Morgan's attack was perpetrated by a suspected serial killer, but she assured us that there's no danger to the public. In Iraq today…"

JJ turned off the TV. "What do you think?"

"Do you really think she's going to strike at the hospital?" Reid said, suppressing a yawn. He was still seated at the table, where he had sat most of the day. He wished he wasn't so tired all the time.

"Maybe we can fake it," Gideon said. "Have a body double leave the hospital, suitably attired of course. We'll take him to Morgan's place, let him move in and see what happens. We'll keep the guards on Morgan too, of course."

They looked at each other.

"It's not a bad idea," Hotchner said. "I'll have Garcia go through the employee records and look for suitable candidates."

---

Reid had such a desire to put his head down on the table and just close his eyes for a few minutes, but he knew that if he did, half the room would descend on him and ask him how he was. He'd probably be sent home too, if he wasn't careful.

Instead he gulped down the rest of his now cold coffee and decided to get up and walk around a bit. But then the effort seemed too strenuous and he stayed seated. His concentration was waning, as was his focus.

"Didn't Detective Lewis send you a witness report from Judge Trenton's case, Reid?" Hotchner said

Reid looked up. "Huh?"

"The witness report?"

"Oh, right." Looking down on the table in front of him he found nothing. "I… I forgot it at my desk. I'll go get it."

He pushed himself up slowly, aware of the others' scrutinizing looks. He took two steps towards the door, and then fell to the floor, unconscious.

---

"Next week the committee plans to make public…" Garcia had brought newspapers from the last week and was catching Morgan up on current events, when he suddenly interrupted her mid-sentence.

"Garcia?"

"Yeah, sugar?"

"What happened to Reid?"

"Um… What… what makes you think something happened to him?" Garcia's voice was shrill with nervousness and she refused to look up from the newspaper.

"Well, that cut on his lip didn't just appear out of nowhere, did it? And did you see how thin he was? He looks like he hasn't eaten in a week. Has he been sick?"

"No, no, he hasn't been sick."

"Then what happened? And what are those marks on his neck?"

"Umm… Nothing happened… or, well, I don't know. Maybe it's better if you ask him or… I don't think I'm the right person to… you know…"

"Garcia, just tell me. What happened?"

"I… I… Oh, honey."

Morgan paled as he suddenly understood what she was trying very hard not to tell him. He remembered Reid's reluctance to come near the bed, and there was the fact that he hadn't been back to visit him today. As glad as he'd been to see Elle and Gideon, he'd expected Reid to be the one to come and visit him.

"I… Oh, god. Did I do that? Garcia, did I hurt Reid?"

"Well, you…"

"What did I do? You have to tell me, Pen. What did I do?"

***

It took a moment for the others to react to Reid's unexpected fall, but when they did, a horrible sense of déjà vu floated over them. But where Morgan had looked close to death, Reid merely looked like he was sleeping, though he was far too pale for a healthy person. He lay on his back, one arm resting on his stomach, the other bent in an angle over his head. His hair had fallen over his cheek and was partially hiding his eyes.

Elle knelt next to him and patted his cheek repeatedly. "Reid? Come on, Reid. Don't do this to us."

JJ was already on the phone, calling the ambulance back to the FBI building for the second time in less than a week.

Hotchner and Gideon also knelt on the floor. Gideon felt him over for injuries, but couldn't find anything. Hotchner pressed his fingers to the pulse point on Reid's bony wrist and was worried when he felt how fast and erratic it was. He was about to comment on it as Reid's eyelids started to flutter.

Reid's eyes opened and he stared up at them in unmasked confusion. "Wha happen'," he slurred, trying to sit up.

"No, stay there, Reid, don't move," Gideon admonished him, pushing down on his shoulders. "You're okay, you just fainted on us."

But Reid kept struggling to get up. "Gideon," he said. "Lipton, he needs to be watched. He's got a history. He's killed before."

Gideon looked at him, trying to transfer his own calm to the agitated young man, but the others exchanged puzzled and worried looks. Lipton had been the unsub they caught just before this whole mess started.

"Reid, we caught Lipton, remember," Gideon said. "We caught him over a week ago."

"No, no. He'd hiding. He's got a lair, you'll see. Where he has his trophies." Reid had achieved an upright position and was looking around him. "Why are you all just standing there? We need to go to his lair. We have to stop him before he kills again." He put his hands down to push himself up to a standing position, but suddenly froze. "I don't… I don't…" And then he lost consciousness again, all color disappearing from his face.

Hotchner, still kneeling on the floor, deftly caught him before he hit the floor, cradling his head in the crook of his arm. "Dammit," he swore. "Come on, Reid. Wake up." He shook him gently without getting a response and frowned. Had he always been this light?

"Where the hell is that ambulance?" Gideon asked no one in particular.

They were in the ER waiting room, each caught in their own personal hell. Another member of their team was down, and they hadn't been able to prevent it.

"What could have happened? Has he been drugged too? Did the unsub get to him?" Elle asked.

"Why?" Gideon asked. "Everything points to a personal vendetta against Morgan."

"But now that he's going to be okay, maybe she's changed perceptions. Revenge by proxy?" Elle theorized.

"It doesn't fit the profile," Gideon argued.

"Let's not jump to conclusions, please," Hotchner said. He sat in a hard plastic chair, leaning back tiredly. Yesterday Morgan had been on the mend, which meant the team had been on the mend. Now they were back to square one.

Dr. Anderson came into the waiting room, looking serious.

"Hello. I wish I could say it's a pleasure seeing you all again, but…"

"What happened to Reid? Was he drugged too?" Elle interrupted him.

"No, but… does any of you know if Agent Reid is diabetic?"

"No, he isn't," Gideon answered quickly. "Why?"

"He's suffering from severe hypoglycemia, which is a severe shortage of glucose or sugar in his blood," Dr. Anderson explained.

"So, he's missed a few meals and his blood sugar level dropped?" Hotchner said, sounding relieved. That wasn't so bad.

But the doctor shook his head seriously. "This is much more serious than missing a few meals or a slight drop in his blood sugar level. His glucose level was practically a whiteout, so low it almost couldn't be measured. It's a good thing you brought him in when you did, he was almost borderline coma earlier."

"A coma? Oh, no, not him too." JJ said, hiding her mouth behind her hand in shock.

But Dr. Anderson calmed her down. "No, no, he isn't in a coma, but he was definitely heading in that direction. I'm just amazed that he was able to function so well until he collapsed. Which brings us back to how he got to this state. A normal, healthy, non-diabetic person's blood sugar level does not drop this low by skipping lunch or even missing a few meals. This takes time. Going by his blood sugar level, his thin, gaunt appearance, slow response of skin turgor and a few other signs, I'm willing to bet that Agent Reid has had virtually nothing to eat for the last five or six days. He's malnourished, in fact to put it bluntly, he's starving."

"Starving?" Hotchner said, incredulously.

A shocked silence followed, before Elle exploded. "Hell no! That's impossible! He's too smart for that."

"Elle…" Hotchner tried to placate her.

"No! No way. Why would he do that to himself? Why would he do something so stupid?"

"Elle, please." Hotchner said. "Doctor, will he be okay? What are you doing for him?"

"Well, right now we're giving him several units of D50, that's a highly concentrated level of dextrose administered through an IV. That will bring his blood sugar level up. We're also giving him vitamins and nutrients, also through an IV, which is the quickest way to get them into his system. We'll see how he responds to that. This is only a temporary quick fix of course. Once he leaves here, if he doesn't start eating again on a regular basis, he'll be right back in the same condition fairly quickly."

"And what if he doesn't?" JJ asked. "What if we can't get him to eat?"

"There are protein drinks and other supplements that can provide him with enough nutrients and vitamins to sustain him for a while, but that's not a permanent solution. He needs proper calories to build himself up again. So it's very important that we find out why he hasn't been eating and correct that problem. He'll need counseling of course. I just hope we'll be able to solve this before we have to resort to desperate measures, such as feeding tubes. He's out of immediate danger for now, and I intend to keep it like that. The good news is that at least he's been drinking properly, kept himself well hydrated. This could've been so much uglier."

The doctor's commitment and care was reassuring to the team as they tried to digest all the information they'd been given.

"Doctor," Gideon said. "When he came to after having fainted, he didn't know where he was, and he was talking about our last case as if it was still going on. Has… has his brain been affected by this?"

"No, I very much doubt that. When a person's blood sugar level drops this low they often become confused and disoriented. In fact, they're often mistaken for being drunk or on drugs. Once his glucose level rises back to within his normal range, the confusion should disappear."

"How long until he's okay? How long will he have to stay here?" Hotchner asked.

"First of all we need to figure out why he isn't eating. If we can figure that out and correct it, things will get back to normal rather quickly. We'll probably just keep him here overnight so we can monitor his blood sugar level and in case we need access to the IV again. If everything looks good enough tomorrow, I'll release him then, hopefully having seen him eat breakfast here first. He can be treated as an out-patient after that. And I hope I can trust you to keep an eye on him."

The team looked at each other. They would keep an eye on him, of course. They would take care of him. They would do everything they could for him. But they didn't really have the time. They still had an unsub to catch, which was as urgent as ever.

"Is there a problem?" Dr. Anderson asked, catching the looks.

"No," Gideon said. "We'll keep an eye on him, every chance we get." They would figure something out. They took care of their own.

"What can we expect?" Hotchner asked. "What should we look out for?"

"He's going to be a bit shaky and unsteady for a while. He's put his body through quite a shock, first the lack of food, then the drop in blood sugar, followed by the rapid replacement of glucose and then eating again. He might suffer from headaches and become nauseous when he tries to eat. It's better to let him start with several small meals throughout the day rather than three big ones until his system has adapted to eating regularly again. He might also be overly emotional for a while, until his blood sugar finally levels out. It'll be a week or two before he's back to his old self."

"Can we see him?" JJ asked.

"Of course. Follow me, please."

Dr. Anderson led them to an exam room. "We'll be moving him to a regular room in a couple of minutes." He then excused himself and left them.

They could see Reid through the glass window in the door. He was lying on a partially raised bed, and looked like he was sleeping, still much too pale than they liked to see him. IV tubing fed into his arm, sustaining him with much needed nutrients. The hospital blanket and gown did not look very warm and they could see how thin he'd become. Not emaciated as they had perhaps feared from the doctor's description, but it was still obvious that Reid's body had changed.

"How could this be going on and nobody notice?" Hotchner asked.

"We were busy," Gideon said curtly. "It's been a very stressful week for all of us."

"Did we… did we forget about him?" JJ asked nervously.

"No, of course not," Gideon comforted her. "We asked about him every day. But we couldn't see what he wouldn't show us."

"Lot of good it did," Elle was pacing, practically fuming. "We should have seen. He got hurt too, but all we've done, and asked him to do, is to find the one who hurt the one who hurt him. And even though he and Morgan are friends… well, that just makes things ten times worse, doesn't it?"

"Elle, this isn't our fault. He wanted to work on this case. He wants to get the unsub just as much as we do." Gideon said.

Elle stopped and looked at him. "He lied to me, Gideon. He looked me right in the eyes and lied to me. And not just once. 'I've already eaten, I'm wearing lots of clothes because it's winter, I'm not hungry right now, I'll eat later.' And I believed him. I believed him every time, because he's Reid."

"I don't understand," JJ said. "Why didn't he tell us that he was doing so badly? We'd have helped him, we'd have taken care of him."

"He was probably afraid that we would've taken him off the case," Hotchner said.

"We wouldn't have kept him completely out of it, though, would we?" JJ asked.

Neither Gideon nor Hotchner spoke.

"Hotch?" JJ asked, but it was Elle who answered.

"He obviously needed medical care. He belonged in a hospital. There's no way he could have taken an active part in the case if we'd known."

"She's right," Hotchner said. "We'd have taken him off to protect him. But he should've realized that on his own. He should've taken himself off. He should've seen a doctor. He had no business coming to work."

"And yet, where would we have been without him?" Gideon asked.

"Gideon, you cannot possibly condone this behavior," Hotchner said, frowning.

"Of course not. I'm just rationalizing it. Look at it from Reid's point of view. We needed him for this case. I'm not saying that we wouldn't have reached the same conclusions on our own, but it would've taken a lot longer and been more complicated. And I can understand why it was important for him to be a part of it. Would any of you have accepted sitting on the sideline while the rest of us tried to catch someone who'd hurt your best friend?"

They were quiet for a while, all of them examining their own hearts and finding that they probably wouldn't have acted much different, had it been them.

"Besides," Gideon continued. "Even Dr. Ramirez cleared him."

"With reservations," Hotchner said.

"What? What reservations? Why haven't I heard of this?" Now Gideon was the one frowning.

"It was nothing major. He just thought there was something off with him, but he couldn't pinpoint it. He figured a few follow-up sessions would be all that was needed."

"He looks so small," JJ said, as she stared through the window, her arms wrapped around her own body. Gideon went up to her and comfortingly put his arm around her shoulders.

"I think it's better if we don't crowd him right now," he said.

"You're right. Just tell him that we're thinking of him," JJ said. No one questioned that it would be Gideon who stayed.

"We'll be with Morgan when you're done. Take your time," Hotchner said, and with a pat to his back he led the women towards the elevator.

"What are we going to tell Morgan?" JJ asked as they got into the elevator.

Hotchner and Elle just looked at each other. They had no answer.

The room was semi-dark when Gideon quietly pushed the door open and sat down on the edge of the bed. Reid had come out of his doze, but kept his head turned away, staring at the wall and Gideon settled to look at the opposite wall… waiting.

"Did the doctor tell you?" Reid finally said.

"He did," Gideon confirmed.

"Are you angry?"

"No… Yes."

"I couldn't take the chance of being excluded from the case. I needed to be a part of it. You understand, don't you?"

"Maybe we could've worked something out."

"You don't know that."

"Reid…"

"I thought I could handle it on my own, I really did. I never meant for it to get this far."

"I know," Gideon soothed him.

Reid finally turned his head and actually looked at him. Sensing the motion Gideon also turned his head and their eyes met.

"I'm sorry," Reid said, his voice heartbreakingly small.

"Me too, Reid. Me too."

***

Morgan lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet bustle of the hospital at night. Garcia was sleeping, curled up like a kitten in an armchair next to the bed. He knew that it was long after midnight, but he couldn't sleep, even though his aching body was craving the rest. Today had just been too much…

Garcia's stuttered explanations of his misdeeds hadn't done much beside heighten his anxieties, so he'd let her off the hook and sent her out on a special errand. She'd protested, but he'd been adamant. He wanted it.

His mother had been with his aunt this afternoon, getting a much needed break, so he'd been left alone with his thoughts, letting one horrible scenario after another build up in his mind. Then Hotchner, Elle and JJ had come for an unexpected and solemn visit.

Reid was sick. Reid wasn't eating. Reid was starving. Reid was slowly killing himself because of something he'd done. Morgan had never known that guilt could be a physical hurt, but here it was, crushing him under its weight, choking him.

The team had been able to give him a clearer view of what had happened in the round table room, but Morgan had found their stories inadequate. They had after all not been there for the whole thing. They didn't know how it had started. They hadn't heard what was being said. They couldn't tell him what he needed to know.

Then Gideon came up, looking tired and haggard, but most of all sad. He'd sunk down into a chair and sat there, rubbing his face with his hands. He hadn't told them much about what he and Reid had talked about, wanting to protect Reid's privacy, but he couldn't keep the despair secret.

He told them what Reid had told him about the flashbacks, about how everything he put in his mouth felt like a cold, hard steel barrel, ready to take his life away and Morgan felt an icy hand grip his heart and squeeze it until he could barely breathe. What had he done?

They had left him. Overpowered by their own grief and guilt they had gone back to the office, hoping that by finding the unsub they could bring some relief and closure to their hurting friends. Gideon had stayed with him, patiently listening to him rant until he was exhausted, patiently listening to him scream and yell and cry, patiently picking up the things he threw around him in anger, picking up the shards of a broken glass as well as the shards of a broken soul. But Gideon hadn't had the answers he needed either.

Garcia had come back with his special request and he'd sent Gideon away. Not knowing what would happen or how he'd react, he'd tried to get Garcia to leave as well. But she knew what he was going to do, and refused to leave him alone.

And though he was now more enlightened and even more horrified, he still didn't have all the answers and he knew that there was only one person in the whole world who did. But would Reid be willing to give them to him? Would Reid even be willing to talk to him?

Reid was dreaming. He was running from something, but he didn't know what it was. He wanted to stop and look, but he couldn't make his legs stop. All he could do was run and run and run…

He woke up with a start and had to take a minute to remember where he was. The light from the corridor crept into the room from the partially open door and his eyes quickly adjusted. Then he noticed that he wasn't alone. In the dim light he saw the shape of a man sitting next to his bed.

"Morgan? What… what are you doing here? What time is it?"

"It's almost two in the morning. When I heard that you were here, I knew I had to come see you."

"Umm… okay. That's nice of you. But it's the middle of the night. Should you be here?" Reid didn't want him here. What could he possibly want that couldn't wait until morning, when there would be lots of other people around?

"Probably not. Garcia will have a fit if she wakes up and finds me missing."

"You snuck out?" Reid asked, only now realizing that Morgan was wearing a hospital gown over a pair of sweatpants and that he was sitting in a wheelchair with an IV pole. An IV that was still attached to the back of Morgan's hand.

"I suppose I did. How are you?"

"You know why I'm here?" Reid asked, sitting up in bed. He liked the height difference. Morgan had to look up to see his face. It gave him a small feeling of power, when in reality he had no idea where this situation would take him.

"Yeah, they told me. They all came up and visited me once you'd been admitted this afternoon. You should probably be extra nice to Elle for a while. She was pissed..." Morgan gave up the feigned light-hearted attitude. "Listen, Reid…"

"I know, I know, what I did was stupid."

"No, that's not what I was going to say. Reid… I'm really sorry about what I did."

"What you did?" Reid said slowly. "You know? They told you?" He'd hoped that that hadn't happened yet. He wasn't ready.

"Bits and pieces. I figured a lot out by myself first. I could see that something was wrong with you, and the way everybody kept avoiding the subject… And then I kind of bullied Garcia into showing me the security footage from the round table room."

Garcia had held his hand and wept as they'd watched the black and white Morgan push the black and white Reid up against the wall and stick a black gun into his mouth. And even though Morgan had seen Reid with his own eyes and had known that there were no bullet holes in him, he'd still wondered whether or not the Morgan on the film would pull the trigger.

"Oh, god." Reid said, feeling increasingly nauseas. It would've been one thing if someone had told him, but he had actually seen it happen. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I needed to know. I could see that something was wrong, and I needed to know how badly I'd screwed up. I could've never imagined… Reid, that was… What I did is inexcusable. I am really, really sorry."

"It's okay, it wasn't your fault, you were drugged," Reid said mechanically.

"No, Reid, it's not okay. It's nowhere near okay, and I don't know how you'll ever be able to forgive me or trust me again. But…"

"But?" Reid asked, nervously tucking an invisible strand of hair behind his ear.

"But… the security camera doesn't record sound. I want to know what I said to you." Morgan held his breath, waiting for the reaction.

"No."

"No?"

"No. You can't know. I don't want you to." Reid shook his vehemently.

"Reid, I hurt you. Badly. Why won't you let me take responsibility for it? Please, tell me what I said. I can't fix it if I don't know what it is. Please." He hadn't counted on this.

"I can't. I can't tell you." Reid wasn't looking at him. He was looking at his fingers, which were beating a nervous tattoo against his leg. Morgan also found himself riveted by their motion.

"Why?" he asked carefully, resisting the urge to reach out and stop the fingers, knowing that Reid wouldn't want to be touched.

"Because… because I'm scared. I'm scared that it will turn out to be… true. That you were actually telling me the truth, and that you had only been too polite to tell me before." Reid was surprised with himself. He'd never thought he would admit that out loud.

"Oh, Reid, was it that bad? I'm sorry. I really am." Morgan's voice was so heavy with sadness that it struck a chord deep within Reid, and he looked up at him.

"Listen, Morgan, stop apologizing, okay? I know you would never hurt me willingly, or anyone else for that matter, that's not you, you don't have it in you. But the thing about us humans is that the things we say and do, we can control, mostly anyway. But the things we think, those we can't control. Believe me, I should know. And I can't help but think that it had to have come from somewhere. You couldn't just have made it up then and there, it had to have come from somewhere."

"What? What had to come from somewhere?" Morgan was feeling slightly desperate. It felt like he was just digging the trench between them deeper.

"Reid, you have to know that I'll do anything I can to make things right. I'll… I'll buy you a car, I'll paint your apartment, I'll fix you up with the hottest chicks I can find. If you want, I'll apologize to you every day for the rest of our lives. When we are grumpy old geezers in a nursing home bragging about out grandchildren and accusing each other of cheating at shuffleboard, I'll still be apologizing every day." His eyes begged Reid to please, please, please understand how sincere he was being.

"If you'll do anything, then please respect my wishes and stop asking me about it, stop talking about it. Just forget about it. Forget it ever happened. That's what I'm going to do." Reid said, hoping to put a stop to a conversation he hadn't wanted to be a part of in the first place.

"Forget about it?" Morgan said incredulously. "No, I can't do that. Tell me, how am I supposed to go on with those images burned into my head?"

"No one forced you to watch."

"But you didn't have that option. Reid, I know that you don't want to talk to me, and that you probably don't want me to be here right now, but like it or not, we're in this together. You and me. I meant it when I said I want to fix this for you. I'll even quit if you want me to."

"What? Why?" Reid looked up, surprise clearly written all over his face. He'd never even thought of that. Quitting himself, maybe, but he hadn't expected Morgan to. Not over something that wasn't his fault.

"Because you shouldn't have to go to work uncomfortable. You shouldn't feel like you have to tiptoe around me because you're afraid I'll go crazy or something. And I can't blame you for not liking me anymore. After seeing that tape, I don't particularly like me anymore."

"Who says I don't like you anymore?" Reid frowned. Who had he been talking to?

"Can you honestly say that you will be okay working with me day after day? Trusting me to watch your back?" Morgan wanted Reid to have the chance to take control, to tell him what he could do to help him.

"Morgan, you don't have to do this. It really wasn't your fault, you were drugged."

"I'm sick and tired of hearing that argument," Morgan said, his voice laced with self-hatred. "That doesn't change anything. It doesn't change what I did. If someone gets behind the wheel drunk and kills someone, we don't say it wasn't his fault, we put him in jail."

"Yes, but he would've probably drunken the alcohol willingly." Reid reasoned. "You didn't. You didn't want to be drugged, it wasn't a pleasure trip. And believe me, had you done what you did while under the influence of recreational drugs taken willingly, I would hate you right now. The only thing that makes it bearable to be in this room with you is the knowledge that you wouldn't have put yourself or me in that situation willingly. You were drugged, Morgan, and almost killed because of it, by someone out for revenge. Someone who wanted you dead, not me. It really wasn't your fault," he said, wondering if he'd said the right things, but Morgan latched on to a statement that had just slipped out.

"Then you would hate me? You should hate me now. That's your problem."

"Excuse me? That's my problem?" What was he talking about?

"Yes. You can't go on and blame everybody else. You have to realize that it was me. Your buddy, you pal, your partner. Me, Derek Morgan. Even if I was drugged beyond all sense, I'm still the one who held that gun on you. You have to accept that if you're going to move on. It wasn't some stranger in an alley, not an unsub we were chasing. It was me."

Reid shook his head.

"No, you're wrong. I have to believe that it really wasn't you holding that gun. How will I ever be able to work side by side with you if I think for even one second that it was you?"

"No, Reid," Morgan said forcefully. "That's not the way to do it. You have to let it out. You have to let yourself be angry with me. You should want to scream and yell and throw stuff at me. You should steal my food and punch me out and kidnap my goldfish and hide my stapler and slash my tires and… and… what?" he broke off, seeing the disbelieving look on Reid's face.

"Kidnap your goldfish and hide your stapler? Staple much, do you?"

"You're missing my point," he said tiredly. "I want you to be angry with me. I want you to take your anger and hurt out on me, not yourself. You can't keep hurting yourself."

"But it wasn't your fault," Reid protested again.

"That doesn't matter. You can be angry with the unsub too, if you want, but you have to allow yourself to be angry with me, because I'm the one who hurt you. It was me. Me!"

He heaved himself up on shaking legs, gripping the guardrail on Reid's bed tightly. The IV-line, being just a tad too short, tugged the wheelchair forward, bumping it into his heels.

"Me, Reid. Me."

He noticed how Reid shied back at first when he stood up and how uneasy he seemed with their closeness and it fueled him even more. Reid shouldn't be afraid of him. They were supposed to be friends.

"Are you just going to lie there and let me destroy your life?" he said, leaning in even more. "Hell no! You're stronger than that. You're better than that. I hurt you, Reid. Me. I did it. I hurt you. It was me. Me, Reid. Me! I hurt you. It was me, Reid. It was me! I did it. Me!" Morgan kept on pushing and pushing relentlessly until…

"Don't you think I know that?" Reid finally snapped at him. "I was there, remember? Front seat row and everything."

"What happened?" Morgan asked again. "What did I do, Reid? What did I say? Tell me… please."

"Do you want to know what you said to me? Do you? You basically told me that I was a worthless little shit who talked too much and thought too much of myself and apparently you would be doing the world a favor by making sure I wasn't in it." He wasn't really yelling, it was more like a furious hissing sound, as he kept his voice low.

"I trusted you. I trusted you to have my back every time and you betrayed me. You hurt me!" Now he was yelling. "You… you… tried to kill me. You wanted me dead! You had a gun and… and… You son of a bitch, you tried to kill me!"

And with that he put his hands on Morgan's chest and shoved him, hard. Morgan lost his grip on the bed and stumbled backwards. The wheelchair rolled back and Morgan ended up landing hard on the floor.

As he recovered from his surprised state, he looked up and saw Reid peering at him from above, still panting from his outburst, but with no trace of anger left in his face.

"Oh my god, are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine. I'm not sure how to get up, though."

Reid climbed down from the bed on his own shaking legs and together they maneuvered Morgan back into the wheelchair. Reid untangled his IV before sitting back on the bed. They looked at each other, both feeling tired and sad.

"It's okay to hate me," Morgan said quietly. "You have every right in the world to hate me."

"I don't want to hate you," Reid answered him. "I really don't, but… I don't know how to think or feel about this. I don't know how to move on from something like this. I just don't know…"

"Take your time, it's a lot to think about. Just know, that whatever you decide, I'll be behind you, one-hundred percent."

"Even if it means quitting your job?" Reid asked hesitatively.

"Even then. The ball's in your court, buddy. Whatever you want me to do… however you want to play this thing out… I'll do anything you say. Anything. I just hope that somehow, somewhere, we'll still be friends."

There was a long pause, until Morgan spoke, sounding completely normal.

"Hey, I've got some chocolate. You want some?" He pulled a warm, soft candy bar from the pocket of his sweatpants.

"Haven't you given those up yet?" Reid asked, surprised.

"Not in this lifetime," Morgan snorted. "Besides, what are the odds that there is something in this one? Besides delicious nougat filling of course."

He tore off the wrapper and broke the bar in two. He held one piece out to Reid, who hesitated.

"Come on," Morgan cajoled him. "It's melting."

Reid took the chocolate in his hand and watched as Morgan licked his fingers before popping his own piece in his mouth, grinning with delight. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. He carefully bit a small piece off… and felt nothing but sweet, warm, half-melted chocolate in his mouth. His eyes widened and watered as his taste buds exploded. There was chocolate in his mouth… and nothing but chocolate. The experience was so overpowering that he almost couldn't breathe. Morgan had finally, finally, done that which he hadn't been able to do for himself. He'd taken the gun out of his mouth.

Reid took the rest of the candy in his mouth, almost swallowing it whole with satisfaction and he watched greedily as Morgan brought another candy bar out of his pocket. Morgan gave him the whole bar and watched with a sad smile as Reid devoured it. He'd finally done something good for him.

The still standing team members were also burning the midnight oil, trying to cover all their angles before the operation was put into action.

Earlier in the day, Garcia had run a facial and body type recognition program through the FBI's records of active agents. Andrew Wilson from the bureau's anti-terrorism task force had been picked as the best match. When asked, he'd immediately volunteered. He was stationed in New York, so they were flying him in. The likeness wasn't perfect, of course, but with some make-up and the right clothes, they hoped to be able to pull the wool over Arden's eyes.

Tomorrow morning they would set their plan in motion. While the real Morgan was moved from the ICU to a regular room, their fake Morgan would be leaving the hospital under their escort. JJ would put together the appropriate press coverage. They would take Wilson to Morgan's house, settle him in and then leave him. Or pretend to leave him. Strategic places for surveillance would be set up, and there would always be someone in the house. Then they would settle in for a nervous wait.

Truth was, this unsub was unpredictable. They were working under the presumption that Kelly Arden still believed that they didn't know who she was and that she therefore would want to finish her work in the nine days she still had left of her vacation. Otherwise they were in for a long wait.

Also, since Arden never hurt her victims directly, it would be difficult to catch her in the act. But with a failure under her belt, they hoped that she would feel desperate enough to do something hands on and soon.

***

Reid was in the bathroom of his hospital room, dressing himself. Funny how loose his clothes were. He hadn't really noticed before. There was a piece of gauze taped to the back of his hand, from where the IV had just been removed.

His discharge papers lay on the now unoccupied bed.

This morning a nurse had come in with a covered tray, obviously on a mission. She had started to explain what was on the tray and what good the different components would do to his body, but before she'd even gotten started on the antioxidants in the apple slices, he'd wolfed down everything on the tray, barely taking the time to enjoy the different tastes and textures that he'd been denied for so long.

The nurse had certainly been surprised, obviously having come in expecting him to refuse to even touch the food. Reid had briefly entertained the idea of explaining the mental blockage he'd been under and how he'd been released from it, and even though he could now eat, he wasn't so stupid as to think that he was cured yet. But in the end he hadn't, letting her leave with the empty tray, just in the nick of time.

He'd eaten too much, too fast, and his body had rebelled. He'd hunched over his aching and spasming stomach, sweat breaking out all over his body, praying that he wouldn't be put through the humiliation of throwing up. He'd thankfully been spared that experience, and the cramps had subsided, leaving a dull abdominal pain and a slight headache behind.

He had, however, explained his new found discoveries to Dr. Anderson, hoping that it would help him get discharged faster. And even though the doctor's mind was both eased and fascinated, Reid's morning blood tests had already shown that his glucose level was now high enough for him to be treated as an out-patient.

So he was released with a mile long list of advices from a dietician and recommendations to several therapists. Now he was on his way down to the lobby to see off Wilson as he became the new Morgan, if only he could get his tie on properly. His fingers, no his whole body, felt clumsy and unsteady with fatigue and he longed for his bed.

He didn't know why it felt important to be there when they set up their trap, it wasn't as if it was likely Arden would come running into the hospital, waiving a gun. But he knew that he wouldn't be allowed to take part of the operation, so he wanted to see it off, give it his blessing, so to speak. Besides, JJ was to drive him home after the press conference.

When he came out of the bathroom, he was met by a surprise. Garcia sat on the bed, furry, pink scrunchies keeping her hair from her face, swinging her legs, waiting. She looked up as the door was opened.

"Hello," Reid said with a questioning smile.

"Hi," Garcia said nervously, her legs swinging in an almost hypnotic fashion. "I… umm… they're moving Morgan right now and they, uh, wanted a bit of privacy. Sponge baths and all that, you know."

"Oh, okay…" Reid wasn't sure where she was going with this.

"Yup, he'll be up on the seventh floor now, room 708, if you're… uh, anyway, he told me he'd been down and talked to you last night and I figured that if he could, then I could."

"Then you could… what?" Reid asked, reaching around her for his jacket that was lying on the bed.

"Apologize," Garcia said resolutely. "I've been horrible to you, sweetie."

"You haven't been that bad," Reid protested.

"Yes I have. I should've been looking out for you, just like I was Morgan, but instead I was blaming you for making a bad situation worse. It was unfair of me and I'm really, really sorry."

"It's okay, Garcia, really. I never saw it like that. This case… it's been complicated. It's been hurting all of us in different ways. You just had to deal with it your own way. There're no hard feelings, I promise."

"So we're good?" Garcia asked, peeking at him over the rim of her glasses.

"As far as I'm concerned, we've always been."

"Fantastic." Suddenly Garcia was Garcia again, bouncing off the bed and threading her arm though his. "I'll walk you down."

Gideon, Hotchner, JJ and Wilson were gathered in a corner of the big hospital lobby. Elle was already hiding out in Morgan's house, waiting for them to drop Wilson off. Hotchner introduced Reid to Wilson and Wilson had to endure several minutes of Reid's scrutinizing looks. Reid came to the conclusion that one of the strange perks of working for the FBI was that it was never a problem finding a stylist and a make-up artist at three in the morning. Wilson was a pretty good match for Morgan. With a pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap Reid would probably have thought he was Morgan too, at a first glance anyway.

"I've called the press conference for 9.30," JJ said, checking her watch. "I've set up in the park next to the parking lot, with the lobby entrance in the background. Once I've started…"

"Once you've started," Hotchner said, "we'll take Wilson out in the wheelchair, moving him over the parking lot, in view of the cameras, but not close enough for anyone to make out any details."

"And I'll keep talking afterwards, letting them ask a lot of questions and giving personal interviews to take the reporters' minds off it," JJ continued, "and even though they won't be fooled, most of the public seeing it will think of it as a coincidence."

"Except for the unsub," Gideon said.

"Except for the unsub," JJ agreed.

Garcia left them, saying that she had promised to meet Mrs. Morgan in the cafeteria for coffee before they went up to see Morgan.

"You wait here for me, okay?" JJ said to Reid with a light touch to his arm and he nodded. He'd spotted a lounge area, with several couches facing a TV mounted on the wall.

"I'll be over there," he said, pointing. Wishing them all good luck he trudged over and sank down into a couch, smiling politely at the man already sitting there.

It wasn't long until the TV's news anchor handed over to a reporter outside the hospital and he saw JJ climb up on a small podium and call for their attention. The sound was too low for him to hear what she said, but he had a pretty good idea.

He looked over to the lobby doors and saw the rest of the team lined up like a group of actors, waiting for their cue to go on stage. Another minute later they were gone and Reid turned back to the TV.

The station he was watching zoomed in on the wheelchair in the background behind JJ and tracked it over the parking lot. Reid kept a close eye on the man in the chair and was relieved to see that Wilson really did look like Morgan. Then they were in the car and gone and the camera went back to JJ, still on the podium, apparently answering questions.

Reid leaned back against the cushions, yawning, only a half eye trained on the TV. Now he was out of the game, out of the loop. He wouldn't know anything until long after it had happened.

A nurse walked past his seat and he reflexively looked up as the fabric of her scrubs fluttered in his line of sight. His first thought was that he didn't believe that the carrot-red hair color was real. Then something else struck him. He knew her from somewhere…

It was Kelly Arden.

He didn't know where the thought had come from, but was sure he was right.

He cast an eye on the TV, his heart beating wildly with adrenaline. JJ was still doing the press conference, her cell phone would be turned off. How far away could the others have gotten?

Arden was standing by the elevators, fingering something in her pocket and Reid, standing up, did the same thing, sticking his hand in his pocket. His gun wasn't there of course. He hadn't expected it to be. But his cell phone? He couldn't find that one either. Hadn't it been brought with him when he came here? It wasn't back in the office, was it?

An elevator arrived and Arden got on. Where was she going? Did she know Morgan had been moved? Where was it that Garcia had said Morgan was? Seventh floor, right?

Reid hurried over to the elevators too, uselessly stabbing the button repeatedly in a desperate manner, praying for a quick arrival.

When it came he almost collided with Dr. Anderson who was getting off. Keeping the doors from closing with his body, Reid urgently spoke to the doctor, who seemed surprised to see him in such an agitated state.

"You have to call Agent Hotchner and tell him that the suspect is here," Reid told him hurriedly.

"What?"

"Just call Hotch and tell him to come back here. And send security to Morgan's room!"

He let the elevator doors close, almost cutting his last words off, and then began jabbing the button for the seventh floor, chanting "come on, come on, come on," under his breath, his eyes glued to the changing numbers above the door.

He was in luck, the elevator wasn't stopped once on the way up. Once the doors opened, he just caught a glimpse of carrot-red hair going into a room further down the corridor, which Reid could only assume was Morgan's.

He sprinted after her, hoping there hadn't been a gun in her pocket. Turning into the room, he came to a sudden halt.

"Kelly, don't," he said, more calmly than he felt, holding his arms out by his side in a non-threatening manner.

Arden stood hovering over a sleeping Morgan, her back partially to the door. She held a knife in her hands. An ordinary kitchen knife, used in millions of kitchens every day to help feed people. Arden held the shaft in both hands, looking like she was ready to plunge it into Morgan's heart.

She looked up and over her shoulder at him, with just a hint of panic in her eyes, which she quickly hid behind an air of nonchalance.

"Don't come any closer," she warned, changing her grip and moving the knife to hover only a few millimeters over Morgan's jugular vein.

Reid stood his ground, not moving. "You don't want to do this, Kelly," he said, wishing desperately that Gideon were here, that this didn't have to be his responsibility.

Their voices were making the tired Morgan stir. His head lolled on his shoulders, coming to rest on his cheek, unaware that he'd just exposed his throat to a very dangerous position. He opened his bleary eyes, having recognized one of the voices that invaded his sleep.

"Reid?" he mumbled.

"Stay still, Morgan," Reid said, never taking his eyes off Arden.

"What?" Morgan blinked a couple of times, his muffled brain trying to register what was happening.

"You said that you would do anything I asked. I'm asking you now, to stay absolutely still." Reid's voice was harder than he'd intended, and tight with fear.

Finally the severity of the situation dawned on Morgan's sleepy mind, and he became wide-awake, seeing the threatening knife gleam in the corner of his eye. He froze to the point where he was barely breathing, immediately starting to calculate his chances. Could he take her out? Was Reid in a better position?

Reid's attention was back at Arden. He had to talk her out of this. She had never killed anyone with her bare hands before. It was a huge step, a huge hurdle for the mind to overcome, and he had seen her hesitate when he came in. He had to talk her out of this.

JJ stood in the lobby looking around. She didn't see Reid anywhere. Maybe he'd gone to the bathroom.

Her cell phone rang.

"Jareau."

"It's Hotch," came the terse reply.

"Hi. I thought the press conference went really well," she said. "I'll be heading back to the office, just as soon as I find Reid. I don't see him anywhere."

"I know. He has spotted Arden. She's at the hospital."

"He what? She's here?" JJ voice exploded with surprise.

"Just get to Morgan's room. We're five minutes out." He hung up on her as she sprinted to the elevators, her mouth dry with fear. Five minutes was a long time.

***

"Kelly, please put the knife down, so we can talk," Reid said.

"No," she said, changing her position so that she would be able to see Reid while still being able to keep an eye on Morgan. "That's not going to happen. If you have something to say to me, say it or leave me alone."

"Please, put the knife away. It's over now."

"It's not over until he's dead. Dead and buried. My brother is dead because of him," Arden sneered.

"Killing Morgan won't bring your brother back. I know that that sounds like such a cliché in a situation like this, but it's the truth. It won't change what happened. It won't change the past."

"Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I know he's gone forever? Don't you think I know that my family is forever broken? But he still matters! Henry still matters! He deserves justice, he deserves to be remembered and loved," she all but shouted at him.

"Do you really think this is the way he would want to be remembered? He loved you. Would he want you to destroy your life like this?"

"He wouldn't want the people who hurt him to be allowed to go on without a care in the world."

"Without a care in the world?" Reid said, suddenly feeling sad. "No, Kelly, no one lives without a care in the world. Everyone has problems and sorrows in their lives, some are just bigger than others… Think about it… Why didn't you go through with your plans when Benny Barker came home with his kids?"

She looked startled by the question, and her hand accidentally drew a small scratch over Morgan's neck. Reid bit his lip as he saw the knife trace the neck line, and Morgan closed his eyes in a quiet prayer. But Arden didn't seem to realize what her actions implied.

"I… I didn't want to hurt them, of course."

"Don't you think it hurt them, having to bury their dad? Never seeing him again? Always an empty chair at every dance recital, every Thanksgiving dinner? I know you hurt for your brother, but Morgan has sisters too. Do you want them to have to suffer like you have?"

A motion in the hallway caught Reid's eye. Hospital security had arrived, but they couldn't help him. They weren't armed, and they weren't trained negotiators. All they could do was help clear the hallway and the ward of people. And then he saw JJ. She was standing pressed to the wall right outside the door, her gun drawn and all senses on alert. She motioned for him to continue, wanting to give him a chance to talk Arden out of it. She didn't want to risk running in and scaring Arden into something desperate while Reid still had the situation under control. But just seeing JJ outside the door helped Reid immensely. He wasn't alone anymore.

"Maybe that's exactly what I want," Arden said, recalling his attention.

"I can understand that you don't want to be the only one in the world suffering, but can't you let it be over now? Morgan has suffered a lot already. He is still suffering."

She was hesitating now, he could see it in her eyes.

"How so?" she asked.

"Didn't you know?" Reid raised his eyebrows, gesturing to himself with his outstretched fingers. "When the amphetamine hit him, he almost killed one of his best friends. Me. See my lip? See the bruises on my neck? They are almost faded now, but they are there. Morgan did that to me. And trust me, it's killing him," he said, emphasizing the word killing.

She looked down on the tense man under the knife as if she was trying to read him, but with his head turned the way it was their eyes couldn't meet.

"It's over now, Kelly," Reid said, taking a small step towards her, testing the waters. "You've done enough."

But she tensed up again, the knife drawing a small line of blood from Morgan's neck and Reid stopped again, his breath momentarily caught in his throat. He looked at the blood, and then at Arden. An idea formed in his head.

"Do you know how much blood there is in a human body? Do you know how much someone bleeds when their jugular is cut?"

Morgan winced mentally. 'Now is not the time for a lecture, Reid,' he thought. But that was not what Reid had in mind.

"You've never killed anyone up close, have you? Are you prepared for that? There's going to be a lot of blood. It's going to spurt all over. It's going to be all over the room, all over you. It's going to be on your hands, warm and wet and red. It's going to be on your clothes and on your face. Are you ready for that?"

Arden looked down at her hands, as if seeing them in a new light. She lifted the knife slightly, her eyes thoughtful and Reid knew that he had won. The thought of blood scared her.

Then she looked up at him and Reid could tell that she was about to make a desperate run for it, and even though Morgan was in the bed, not three feet away from him, he suddenly missed him fiercely. Morgan was always the one with the quickest reflexes, always the one who ran after the suspect first.

Time seemed to move in slow motion. He saw her lift the knife, holding it out in front of her as if she would be jousting and then she started running towards him, or rather towards the door, which he was unfortunately blocking.

"JJ!" Reid called, but not fast enough. Arden was only three steps away from him. He took a step back and twisted his body to get out of the way, but they still collided. He felt their bodies slam together, the knife trapped lengthwise in-between them. He lost his balance as her heavier frame crashed into him with a surprised grunt and he took a hold of her arms both to steady himself and to keep her away from him, but they both went crashing to the floor. He twisted his body even more so he wouldn't end up underneath her, instead they both fell on their sides. He felt a searing pain spread across his stomach and knew that even with all his precautions, he hadn't been able to avoid the knife.

He let go of her arm and plunged his hand in between them, searching for her hand and the knife. He found the knife first as it sliced a wildfire of pain over his palm before he managed to wrestle the hand that held the knife out and above their still horizontal bodies. There he felt another hand join their bloody ones and he looked up and saw JJ, forcing the knife out of Arden's hand, tossing it away from them, sending it clattering across the floor until it came to a stop against the far wall.

JJ pulled Arden out on the floor and pushed her down on her stomach, pressing a knee into the back of the struggling woman as she fished her handcuffs out.

"Reid, are you okay?" she called.

Reid was too winded to answer as he brought his hand down to his stomach, then bringing it up, looking at the blood, too late remembering that both his hand and his stomach were wounded and he had no idea what blood he was looking at.

"Reid?" another voice called, laced with worry.

He looked up, his senses slightly numb and his reaction slow. Morgan was sitting up in bed, tearing at the IV and the oxygen cannula, trying to free himself to get out of bed.

"Reid? Answer me," JJ called again, still sitting on top of Arden.

"I'm… I'm fine," he finally managed to say. "It's nothing, really."

He pushed himself up into a sitting position with his good hand, deaf to the others' protests that he should keep still. He slid on his butt until he ended up with his back against the wall, pressing his arm against his smarting midriff.

"I'm fine," he insisted, blinking a couple of times to clear his head. "Stay in bed," he admonished Morgan.

Hotchner, Gideon and Wilson came running through the hall, having already been told by the security guards meeting them at the elevators that the situation had been taken care of. Morgan just stared at the appearance of Wilson, dressed in his clothes. His mind was not quite up to par yet, he had forgotten all about the plan.

Quickly assessing the room, Hotchner went to keep Morgan in bed while Gideon knelt next to Reid, taking a hold of his shoulder to help steady him, trying to assess the damages. "Get the suspect out of here so we can bring in the doctor," he said, and Wilson immediately went to help JJ lift Arden to her feet and frog-march her out of the room, reading her her rights.

"I'm okay," Reid said again. "It's nothing." He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He was feeling light-headed and it appeared as if the room was making small undulating motions around him, making him nauseous.

"Reid, come on, look at me," Gideon said worriedly, afraid that Reid was slipping away, and Reid reluctantly did as he asked. He was so tired. It was like if every ounce of strength he'd managed to muster was being leached out of him together with the warm blood that was coating his stomach.

Dr. Anderson came into the room together with a nurse. He knelt down on the other side of Reid, but Gideon refused to give up his place, leaving the nurse standing, holding bandages and other supplies in her arms.

Dr. Anderson pulled Reid's arm away from his stomach and unbuttoned his shirt, carefully peeling it away as it was stuck in the wet wound. Reid hissed through clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Anderson apologized.

"'s okay. I'm fine. It's nothing," Reid persisted.

"How about I make that call, okay?" Dr. Anderson said gently. After a brief examination he nodded to the nurse to hand him some bandages which he tied around Reid as a temporary fix.

"I wouldn't call it nothing," he said, "but it doesn't look bad. The knife only grazed you, so it's just skin and muscle damage, but you're going to need stitches."

"Fantastic," Reid replied monotonically.

Dr. Anderson proceeded to wrap gauze around his hand as well, frowning. "We'll have to clean this out properly before we can make sure the tendons aren't damaged. Can you wiggle you fingers?"

Reid managed an awkward half-wave, but all his fingers did move.

"Good, very good." Dr. Anderson turned to the nurse. "Let's get him a wheelchair and take him down to the ER."

"Reid?"

Reid looked up and saw that Morgan was staring anxiously at him from the bed, where Hotchner sat with a hand on his chest to keep him from jumping off.

"You saved my life… thank you, I…"

Reid shook his head. "It's okay, you don't have to…"

"But, Reid…"

"No, no, it's fine." He didn't need more of Morgan's guilt, he wasn't through processing the last batch.

Garcia and Mrs. Morgan had been kept worriedly waiting by the security guards until the room was cleared, but now they were shown in. Garcia gasped as she saw the blood covering Reid and Mrs. Morgan looked between her son and Reid.

"Are you okay, honey?" she asked Morgan as Hotchner gave up his seat on the bed for her.

"I'm fine, mom," Morgan said, kissing her cheek. "Reid took care of everything. He saved me."

Luckily the wheelchair had been brought in and Gideon and Dr. Anderson were helping him to his feet, so he could concentrate on his feet instead of having to look at the others.

"Thank you, Dr. Reid," Mrs. Morgan told him as he was seated. "Thank you so much."

When he shrugged it off, Garcia came up to him, leaned down and took his head firmly between her hands and gave him a big kiss, right on the lips.

"You know, for a knight in shining armor, you're not too shabby," she told him.

"Umm… thanks," he said, slightly bewildered, as she released him.

As they started to wheel him out, Morgan once again called after him. "Reid!"

Reid closed his eyes, ignoring the call. His head was spinning. Too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours, it was overwhelming him. He'd collapsed, been taken to the hospital, been given enough glucose to make his body spin on its own axis, then the emotional confession to Gideon, the confrontation with Morgan in the middle of the night, eating again, the adrenaline spike when he identified Arden, the tension and helplessness he'd felt, seeing her standing over Morgan, ready to cut his throat, her mad rush for freedom, the knife connecting with his stomach, the blood... and now he was off for more stitches. He couldn't be expected to deal with anyone else right now. Morgan had his mother and Garcia by his side. Reid shouldn't have to worry about his feelings too.

He felt Gideon put his reassuring hand back on his shoulder, walking next to the wheelchair, but he didn't try to draw him into conversation, he didn't try to make him talk, and for that Reid was immensely grateful.

He wouldn't know what to say anyway.

After what felt like hours of examinations, which Reid, in spite of the pain, mostly dozed through, and an abundance of stitches decorating his body, he was released from the hospital with painkillers and antibiotic pills filling his pockets. Dr. Anderson wouldn't have minded keeping him over night, if nothing else than to make sure he got enough rest, but Reid had begged him to be let go, unless it was absolutely necessary for his health to stay.

Gideon had driven him home and fed him soup and crackers before more or less tucking him in, making himself comfortable on Reid's couch.

After almost sixteen hours of uninterrupted painkiller- and exhaustion induced sleep, Gideon had made him breakfast and made sure that he was capable of taking care of himself before leaving him. Gideon was barely out of the door before Reid too was on his way, ignoring all advices of rest. He knew what today was, and he wasn't going to be left out.

And that was why, a half-hour later, Reid stepped off the elevator at the BAU floor and surveyed the bullpen. It was still rather early, only a few desks were manned. Looking up he saw that while Gideon's office was dark and closed, Hotchner's lights were on. He didn't see either him or JJ anywhere, but Elle was sitting at her desk.

Reid shuffled stiffly towards her and plunked himself down tiredly at his own desk.

"Hey," he greeted Elle, who was staring at him over the low partition that separated their desks.

"Hey," she answered in clear surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to be here for the interrogation."

Elle nodded knowingly. She wouldn't have wanted to miss that either.

"So…" she said, dragging the word out. "How are you doing?"

Reid suddenly realized that he had neither seen nor spoken to Elle since before he fainted in the conference room, which felt like a lifetime ago. And he remembered what Morgan had told him.

"Elle," he said hesitatively, not sure how to express himself the best way. "I know that I screwed up and I know that you're mad at me. I'm really, really sorry for worrying you."

Elle stood up and brought her chair over to Reid's side, so they could speak quietly to each other. Reid watched her nervously.

"Reid, I'm not mad at you," she said gently when she sat close enough for their knees to be bumping into each other. "I was, but not anymore. I just can't get it into my head. Why? How could you just stop eating like that? I know you know how dangerous that is."

Reid quickly decided that Elle wouldn't buy any obfuscation at this point. Plus, he'd promised Gideon to start being honest with his team.

"It wasn't supposed to get that far. I thought I would be able to fix it before it became dangerous. I just never found the time."

"The time for what? What was your plan?"

"I was going to do research. Learn more about the underlying causes of flashbacks and..:"

"Bullshit," Elle interrupted him.

"What?"

"You heard me. There's no way that you don't already know everything there is to know about psychology and different disorders."

"I'm not up to speed with the newest research…"

"But you still know more about it than most people. You had all the tools, I know you did. Why didn't you use them?"

"I… I don't know. I guess I didn't want to…to…"

"You didn't want to… what?"

"Just that, I suppose. I didn't want to. If I could just focus on one problem, then…"

"Then you wouldn't have to deal with other problems, say for example that your friend had almost killed you and that he might be dying."

"I guess so. God, it sounds so simple when you put it like that."

"That's hindsight for you," Elle smiled at him. "What about protein shakes and all those other god-awful meal replacement drinks? My roommate in collage lived on those for weeks at the time when she wanted to loose weight. You can get them in any grocery store. Why didn't you take those?"

Reid shrugged. "I thought about it, but I guess I didn't think I needed them."

"Didn't need them? Reid, you were almost in a coma because of malnutrition. How could you not have needed them?"

"I just figured that by the next day I would be fine, that it would blow over, that I would be able to eat again. It felt like I would be cheating, like I would be giving in, giving up. I couldn't do that."

"Oh, Reid," Elle said sadly, "I just wished you hadn't insisted on taking it on on your own, I wish you hadn't been so alone. We're a team, remember. For better and worse, in sickness and health and all that."

Reid smiled at her wordplay, which she took as an invitation and she leaned over and hugged him, careful of his soar midriff. At first he seemed a little uncomfortable, but he did hug her back, feeling relieved that he'd been able to mend this bridge.

"Just talk to us next time there's something wrong, okay?" she whispered before pulling back and he nodded, promising.

"You're eating now, aren't you?" Elle asked.

"Yes, I am."

She looked searchingly at him. "For real this time?"

"Yes, for real. What, you want proof?"

"You know, that's exactly what I want." She got up and moved over to her own desk. "You can eat my therapy."

"Eat your therapy?" Reid had no idea what she meant by that.

"Yep." She pulled Tupperware canister out of her desk drawer. "I was so agitated last night, thinking of all the things that could've gone wrong, hating the fact that I wasn't there for it. I just couldn't sleep, so I baked instead. It's very therapeutic."

She pulled off the lid to reveal neatly stacked cookies.

"It's oatmeal and raisin," she said. "It's good for you."

"What about the sugar and butter?" Reid asked as, his hand hesitating over the cookies before he took one. Maybe food wasn't his enemy anymore, but it had been and it was difficult to forget old grievances.

"Just concentrate on the oatmeal and raisins." Elle told him. "That's what I always do."

***

Hotchner stood on the ledge overlooking the bullpen and stared unbelievingly down into it, where Elle was waving a box full of cookies under Reid's nose.

"Hey," he called, jogging down the stairs. "You're on sick leave, you're not supposed to be here."

Reid looked up. "I just thought…"

But he was interrupted as Hotchner saw Gideon make his way slowly through the bullpen, pushing Morgan in a wheelchair. "And neither are you! What's going on here?"

"I just wanted to be part of the interrogation," Morgan said. "I want to see her. I want to talk to her."

"Are you sure you're up to it?" Hotchner asked, but it was Gideon who answered.

"Hotch, he needs this."

Hotchner looked at Gideon over Morgan's head and nodded.

"Hey," Elle said, walking over to Morgan and drawing a finger along the armrest of the wheelchair. "Sweet ride."

"Sure is," Morgan agreed. "And it even came with a chauffeur. But do you know what the best thing about it is?"

"Uh-uh," Elle shook her head.

"It's a two-seater," Morgan said, gripping her around the waist and pulling her down into his lap. She landed with a squeal and proceeded to give him a bop over the head, a very gentle one though, and asked,

"Tell me, did this loss of intelligence happen before or after the coma?"

"Ooh," Morgan said, scrunching up his face in a pretended hurt expression. "You're dangerous, woman."

Elle bopped him on the head once more for good measure before kissing him on the same spot and standing up, offering him and the others cookies too.

Reid sat by his desk, feeling overwhelmed and insecure. He hadn't expected to see Morgan today. He was nowhere near done thinking yet. He didn't know what to say. When Morgan's eyes ghosted over him, a slightly desperate look on his face, Reid gave him a shy smile, but other than that he didn't offer anything. Thankfully, Morgan didn't push, but then again, he'd promised to do this on Reid's terms.

The elevator opened and JJ escorted a brown-haired woman in her forties with a visitor's badge clipped to her coat out of it.

"This is Janine Panachuk, Kelly's lawyer," she introduced as Ms. Panachuk shook hands with all of them. "She just flew in from Chicago."

"All right," Hotchner said. "Take Ms. Panachuk to interrogation and I'll escort Kelly up."

Morgan had left the wheelchair behind in the bullpen and hung heavily on Gideon's arm as they progressed through the corridor, but in front of the interrogation room he let go of Gideon and stood up straight. He walked into the room with every ounce of his self-confidence showing and sat down next to Hotchner who was already facing Kelly Arden and her lawyer. Gideon walked into the corner of the room where he stood half-in and half-out of the shadows. With his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall, he stood sentinel over his team.

On the other side of the two-way mirror Elle and JJ had pushed Reid down into a chair and stood on each side of him. Elle kept her hand on his shoulder, unconsciously moving her thumb back and forth, rubbing his upper arm soothingly.

Hotchner started the recording device sitting on the table in front of him and recited the information about the case, the date and those present, before turning to Arden.

"Ms. Arden, are you responsible for the deaths of Michael Trenton, Lester Holt and Benjamin Barker and the attempts on Special Agent Derek Morgan's life?"

"I advice you not to answer that question or say anything to incriminate yourself, Kelly," Ms. Panachuk said, leaning in close to her client. "If they have a case, let them prove it."

"Yesterday I woke up with her holding a knife to my throat, Ms. Panachuk," Morgan said bitterly. "How much more proof do you think we need?"

"He's right," Arden said. "I'm going down no matter what. I don't see any point in keeping secrets anymore. The answer to your question, Agent Hotchner, is yes. I killed them."

"Let the record show that my client is confessing against my recommendations," Ms. Panachuk said, and then sat back, feeling she had done her job. If her client wanted to bury herself, there was nothing she could do about it.

"I killed them, and I'm glad I did," Arden said. "They deserved it for what they did to my brother. They deserved it for ruining Henry's life."

"How did they deserve it?" Hotchner asked. "How did they destroy your brother's life? They were just doing their jobs. Your brother had committed a crime and it was their job to…"

"No," Arden shouted, interrupting him. "They weren't just doing their jobs, they were playing God. They didn't care that my brother was innocent. They wanted to send someone to prison and they chose him. They were wrong!"

"Your brother wasn't innocent," Morgan protested. "He took part in an armed robbery where a person got killed. A man with a wife and two little girls was killed."

"Henry never killed anyone. He made a mistake, a small one. He didn't mean for anyone to get hurt, but did anyone listen? No! He was just a scared kid, who had to take all the blame, because you were too lazy to find the rest of them, those who were really responsible for the crimes my brother was sent to prison for. Why didn't you? Why didn't anyone speak for him? Why did you all just stand there and watch as he was destroyed? How could you? How could you go on with your life when my brother had lost his? Have you no shame? Have you no honor?" she spat at him.

"It was your brother's choice," Morgan argued, feeling deeply wounded by the accusations. "All he had to do was tell us the names of those who were with him, but he refused. He gave us no choice."

"That's because you didn't care. You just thought of him as another kid from the streets, didn't you? But he was someone. He was someone to me. He was my brother. My little brother…" she sobbed.

"Jellybean-Kelly, that's what he used to call me when we were kids. Jellybean-Kelly. He was the child who crawled up in my lap and asked to hear a story, he was the boy who came home bursting with pride when he scored the winning goal in soccer. He was the young man who cried all night the first time our mother was diagnosed with cancer. He was my brother!"

She looked up at them, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I did everything I could for him. I sold my car to pay for his defense. I sold my house and moved in with my mother. And the only lawyer I could get was this guy Barber, who'd just taken the step from public defender to private practice. He'd be the best I would ever get for my money, he told me. But that no-good, overprized idiot… do you know what he said? Confess, he said. Confess and they'll be lenient. Henry didn't want to, he wasn't guilty, he hadn't done anything, but he confessed anyway. He thought he'd get a suspended sentence, Barber promised him that. But he got eight years. Eight years for witnessing a murder! How is that justice? I ask you, how is that fair?"

But no one answered her, instead letting her spew her sadness and anger onto them.

"When he got out, he wasn't my brother anymore. He was a stranger. There was no joy in him, no life. We got to keep him for eight months, that was all. We did everything we could to cheer him up, to make him come alive again, to remind him how good life could be, but one morning I walked into his room and found him hanging… I couldn't help him. I couldn't save him. Do you have any idea what that feels like?... I remember sitting by the window later that day, once they had taken him away, looking at the neighbors packing their car for a weekend trip, and I wondered how it could be that they were still going on their trip, like the world hadn't just ended."

She looked down on her own hands, which were tearing a Kleenex into small, small pieces, peppering the table with paper snowflakes.

"Eight months after he died, my mother had died too, and my sister had left the country. Dad died when I was still a kid. I was sitting all alone in the kitchen, reading the morning newspaper and saw that the prosecutor, Holt, had been made District Attorney. And that's when I realized that no one cared. That everyone else's life was still going on and moving forward and they were happy. And I thought about it and I thought about it and I thought about it and the more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed. Like my brother hadn't made an imprint on the world. Like he had never mattered. And I couldn't let it be that way. I had to do something."

"It always surprises me," JJ mumbled in the viewing room.

"What does?" Reid turned his head and looked up at her sad face.

"How human they sound."

"Growing up, we'd dream about what we wanted to be," Arden said, sounding like she was talking more to herself than to them. "Henry wanted to be a fireman and an astronaut and a teacher and a gardener and I don't know all the things he said. Melanie, our sister, wanted to be a professor. It didn't matter what in, she just wanted glasses and an office full of books and a black board and chalks of her own. I… I wanted to be a veterinarian or work in a zoo. And look what happened to us. Mel is waiting tables in Australia somewhere. Henry ended up in prison before he got his first real job. He never got to be anything. And look at me. I grew up and started killing people," she said bitterly. "I never thought…Isn't it odd? How we change without even wanting to, without ever meaning to."

She looked at Morgan with fire in her eyes, anger bubbling in her chest.

"Do you realize how much I've hungered for revenge? How I've longed to see you cold and pale, beyond the reach of any human hands and minds. How I've dreamed of seeing your mother cry as mine did when my brother was buried. How I've ached to see your sisters devastated like Mel and I were when we heard the sentencing. Have you any concept of how much I hate you? You and those conspiring with you to ruin my family. He was my brother. My brother!"

She broke down, leaning over the table, sobbing, her lawyer awkwardly patting her on the back.

Hotchner turned off the recording. The interview was over.

Epilogue

Several weeks later, Reid lay in bed, twisting and turning, sleep nowhere near claiming him. Tomorrow was the day. Tomorrow was Morgan's first day back at work.

Time had moved much too quickly. The last couple of weeks had just whizzed past as he'd been thinking about his choices, wondering about the consequences.

Otherwise he was doing great. He was in therapy twice a week and he had no problem talking to the rest of the team anymore, even though he still felt guilty for lying to them for so long. He'd been back at work for a while now and he was eating fairly well, even though he was still a bit too skinny. He was, however, being drowned in well-meaning calories, as the break room these days resembled a bake sale more than anything else and complimentary fruit- and muffin baskets had begun to show up mysteriously in their department instead of staying with their original recipients. JJ had gained three pounds since he'd come back to work. She was not happy. Reid, however, was. He'd never known he had so many friends in the building.

But he knew he was still being watched. He hadn't earned back the complete trust of his team yet.

And he had been avoiding the subject of Morgan, except for brief interludes with his therapist. He felt like that was a decision he had to make on his own.

He now thought that he had reached a decision. He was sure it was the right thing to do… almost. What if it wasn't? What if it backfired on him? What if it screwed everything up beyond repair? He was taking a huge chance here. Would he be able to pick himself up again, if it blew up in his face? Did he even have the guts to go through with it?

Flopping over on his back and kicking off his sweaty covers, he sighed and stared into the night.

Tomorrow was the day.

It was Morgan's first day back at work, and it appeared as if the team had been kind enough to save him three weeks worth of paperwork, just to keep him sufficiently occupied. Perhaps not his favorite task, but it was much better than sitting at home. He'd finally convinced his mother that he was well enough for her to go home, and his place was finally back to the bachelor pad he knew and loved.

Morgan had been rather nervous coming here this morning, and it had been strange for a while. There were a lot of people walking on eggshells around him. Not his own team, but the rest of the agents and support staff occupying the bullpen. But mostly he'd wondered how things would be between him and Reid. They hadn't seen each other since that day of Arden's interrogation, and though Morgan had missed his friend, he'd been perfectly willing to give Reid all the space he needed. But he couldn't help wondering how things would be now.

Reid had been rather subdued during the day, like he always was when he was thinking hard about something he couldn't quite figure out. Morgan had caught him looking at him contemplatively several times during the day. It was getting close to quitting time, and he still didn't know which leg to stand on in regards to Reid.

In the corner of his eye, he suddenly caught sight of Reid, who was walking nervously up to his desk.

"Morgan?"

Morgan immediately abandoned the keyboard and turned his full attention to Reid. Was this it? Was this his sentencing?

"Yes, Reid?"

"I… I… I've got these tickets. Basketball. It's this weekend. Would you… Do you… Do you want to come with me?"

Morgan's face split into a toothy grin and he almost laughed with relief. It would take time, of that he was sure, but he and Reid would be all right.

"Sure thing, buddy. Sure thing."

THE END

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