Warnings: Graphic crime scene description, some foul language, and spoilers for episodes; 'Riding the Lightning,' 'Shades of Gray,' and 'Haunted.'

The reckoning that Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner had successfully avoided after Christopher Keller's attack on Dr. Reid, could no longer be delayed or avoided. Derek Morgan's fast actions had spared two men that day but bureaucrats rarely weigh such things where public image, and re-election, is concerned. When they had to account for every bullet discharged from their guns, what else could be expected? Hotch and Morgan had been called to headquarters for an immediate deposition by Internal Affairs, Erin Strauss, and anyone else Strauss could rally for her cause.

Derek had been no easier to get on the jet than a frightened kitten into a bath, if he'd had claws he would have dug them into the tarmac and forced the Unit Chief to drag him onto the plane. As it was, he'd gathered up his belonging reluctantly, and wondered if he could stall long enough for Spencer to awaken. Morgan needed to see for himself that Reid was in one piece, breathing, and still capable of – well, finding a way back to some semblance of normalcy. This would be the first time that Reid would awaken and he would not be there with some playful humor and a listening ear.

When Derek had boarded the plane, Reid was still unconscious. The doctors had thought it best to keep him sedated with a combination of pain medications and something that was meant to detox his system from the high concentration of drugs that he'd been given. Garcia had hacked into the electronic charting system for the hospital and was keeping Derek updated each time Reid's vitals were taken or something changed in his alertness. They checked Reid's vitals ever two to four hours and as soon as the results were charted, Morgan's phone buzzed with Garcia's surreptitiously obtained intelligence.

Derek wasn't a doctor and he knew very little about what the numbers meant – well, some of it corresponded with his own stats – the numbers he watched rise and fall on his heart monitor when he ran. Yet even that understanding was limited to his own weight and height and Reid certainly wasn't concerned with reach anaerobic activity. Some of the charting information that Garcia had sent along had mentioned concerns of cardiac damage, due to the continuously elevated heart rate while he was in the throes of upper-plateau DXM usage, to say nothing of the stress he'd endured.

Aaron sat at the table at the end of the plane, looking over the comprehensive file that JJ had compiled for him before they left for their inquisition.

The SFPD had compiled a long list of missing transients, public health recipients, and other members of the at-risk population in San Francisco. When the news reached the public, calls came flooding into the precinct – local, international, after awhile it didn't matter much to differentiate between them. There were a dozen or more men that fit Allan's type perfectly. Hotch had been on the phone with Strauss shortly after Reid had been admitted to the hospital. He prepared for the bureaucratic shitstorm as the SFPD fought to have the electricity turned on in the Hibernia Savings & Loan, speaking of bureaucratic shitstorms.

Once the lights were on, reports came back to the precinct of their findings. Yes, Allan Ng's list of victims was substantially longer than a few piqueristic attacks on transit vehicles and the escalation to the short list of men they had gathered across several counties. Upon opening each personal storage locker in the bank the local PD discovered an entirely new layer to Allan's perversions. At some point, most likely at the beginning of his career, Allan had experimented; what killed them the fastest? The slowest? How many cuts could he make – and where could he make them – that would afford him the most play time?

The first officer to step inside a freshly cracked storage locker, took one step inside the locker and promptly slid, his feet coming out from under him a few steps and then sliding the rest of the way. The officer only had time for two deep panicked breaths and then the sweet and rancid smell hit his nose, and now it was his stomach that he was fighting to gain control over.

The sound of two more small vault doors being cracked open and then a yell from his commanding officer, "Andy, get the hell out of there!" The officer-in-charge then shouted into his radio, "Everyone stays downstairs! We need a hazardous materials team in here!"

Seven of the ten lockers had been occupied by young men in various states of decay. Each cause of death was either, indeterminate because of the state of damage and decay, or differed substantially from Allan's other modes of dispatching his victims.

Allan had made the attempt to bleed one victim like a deer. Allan had cut and dressed the boy in the best way that a smooth-skinned, city boy could have ever dreamed of doing. The process had eventually proved too difficult or too taxing because instead of being strung up by his heels, the boy lay in the corner of the vault, the left side of his body slowly dissolving into the sanguine pools around him. Each personal storage locker had been equipped with a nearly impenetrable door which had accounted for the reduction in smell but upon opening it the entire bank was awash in the smell of death and decay.

The electricity had come on in time for Hotch to leave for his inquisition with a colorful, well-lit rendering of Allan's exploits in the Hibernia Savings & Loan.

Aaron was completely fixated on his notes for the meeting with IA. In Aaron's case, nerves were never an issue. His nerves had been forged in a household that had steeled them to the point that they were pretty much impervious to the likes of Erin Strauss. Granted, he probably would have fared better by bringing David Rossi into the meeting but that was another matter. As it were, his travel companion, Derek Morgan, was engrossed in his own meeting materials, headphones covering his ears and his head bobbing, on occasion, to the beat of his music.

The tension when they boarded the plane had been palpable. Aaron looked over at the solid row of seats up against the left wall of the plane. It was easy to imagine Reid laying there in his short-sleeved white shirt, looking more like an engineer than a FBI profiler. He could see the young Spencer, hair gelled into submission and those ridiculous horn-rimmed glasses, looking back and forth between he and Gideon as they batted ideas about an UnSub around the cabin of the plane. It wasn't hard to recall that look of wide-eyed worry that Spencer donned anytime he couldn't read Aaron's visage, which in the beginning, was fairly often. Gideon was so good at keeping that open look of perpetual interest and care, especially when it came to Reid. Hotch was far beyond the point of wondering what Jason Gideon would have done in this situation and admittedly, it was hard to not just answer the question with: well, he'd turn and run. That wasn't fair to Jason but it still did nothing to reassure Hotch that maybe Reid would hit that same roadblock. How much more could Spencer take before walking away?

Aaron relished the idea of shoving the crime scene photos in Strauss's direction. This wasn't like Keller – they were not even in the same ballpark. Keller had been a mistake, a misstep, but Allan Ng – anyone could have fallen into his grasp. Yes, anyone could have been in Reid's place and if it hadn't been Reid the team wouldn't have necessarily been so lucky.

Strauss would gleefully dismantle the current team if she had her way. Emily Prentiss would go back to being under her thumb. Reid would be off to some CIA think-tank or other theory-based position. JJ's wholesome good-looks and intelligent sophistication would easily put her in the front-running for the face of the Bureau. Erin would find some way to get JJ to Washington or to the Pentagon – something that would make her look just as good as the blonde angel whose coattails she was riding. Aaron looked over at Morgan. Morgan would make a great recruiter – who wouldn't want to imagine their time in government service would look so good? Yeah, trainer and recruiter for the Academy for Derek.

Where would that leave him? Aaron wondered. Wherever he landed, Strauss would ensure that it was a position that would never have the potential to threaten her again. Maybe he would be transferred out to the Attorney General's office and he could use his BAU knowledge and prosecutorial training to cement a location near home. He could hear Haley's voice in his head: too little, too late, Aaron. That was the name of that tune these days – too little, too late. Why the hell had he sent Reid off with Rossi? Why hadn't he kept him in the office and under his ever-watchful gaze? Because it hurt too much to see Spencer, even with all of his bruises concealed, looking at Spencer Reid just reminded him of his failings- failings that he was on his way to answer for.

Aaron wasn't about to let the entire team fall apart before Erin Strauss had the joy of dismantling it. He was sure that Morgan would assume that his next moves would be based in a need for self-preservation – Aaron's attempt to make himself look good before facing the IA firing squad. Assumptions be damned, Aaron told himself as he rose to his feet, crossed the plane, and sat down in the seat in front of Derek Morgan.

Derek gave a few beats of the current track on his headphones before removing them slowly. "Yeah, Hotch?"

Before Aaron could speak, Derek's phone buzzed and he brought it up to his face, giving it precedence over whatever Hotch was trying to get out. Reid's stats hadn't changed and they had administered a new patch of meds to keep him feeling no pain and deep into the dreamless sleep that he'd struggled to attain on his own for so long. Morgan breathed a sigh of relief and then promptly stowed his phone.

"How is he?" Hotch asked, smiling softly at Morgan.

"That's a little easier to ask as long as you have a few dozen states between you and he?" Morgan stared at Hotch with contempt.

Hotch wasn't about to be ruffled by Derek's righteous anger. "Would you have had him stay in the office? Would it have given you peace of mind to watch him draw on maps trying to track pedophiles and murderers with that mask of bruises, jumping every time he felt someone at his back?" Aaron's eyes narrowed, daring Morgan to contradict him.

"Why, man? I mean, I don't get it, Hotch. Why send him to interview Keller when you knew just as well as any of us that Reid had that craving for male authority and Keller – man, Hotch, you gotta be kidding – we served him up on a silver platter!"

"And what?" Hotch said, quietly, "I should have sent you so you could have gotten in a few blows and gained absolutely no information? You amply displayed your skills with Peralta." Hotch took in a deep breath and then went in for the jugular, "Spencer would have gotten…would have been singled out by Allan with or without my suggestion that he accompany Rossi-"

"If the helps you sleep, man-" Derek interrupted and began to gather steam for his own verbal skewers before Hotch silenced him and continued, undeterred.

"-If we had taken him with when we arrived in the City to assist on the case," Hotch spoke carefully, "if he had gone out to get a drink because he wasn't sleeping, if he had met Michael Peralta by happenstance, that wouldn't have changed Allan's motivations. It wouldn't have changed Allan's strange fixation on the object of Reid's affections," Hotch paused when Morgan turned his focus away from the Unit Chief, "And it wouldn't have made your jealousy any easier to deal with."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me, really, Hotch?" Morgan's voice was more flippant than it was filled with anger but there was no mistaking that Aaron had hit a nerve. "You think this is about jealousy? Are you really losing your instinct that much?"

Yeah, two could play that game! Morgan thought, watching as Aaron's eyes narrowed.

"What is Garcia sending you?" Hotch asked looking at Derek's phone, resting close by. "She hack into the medical records database or something of the like? You getting updates on Reid's vitals each time they take them?" When Derek shifted evasively, "Under-estimating the one you're profiling is probably the biggest mistake you can make, Morgan. Have I really lost my instinct?"

Derek sighed, "How's he going to come back from this? I mean, c'mon, Hotch! How is he going to go back to being who he was? He was a mess after Keller's attack and now this?" He looked down at his phone, dejectedly, "He'll walk out. Gideon tried to come back after his breakdown and he lasted a few years at best but we both knew he was ready to throw in the towel long before that."

"What if he does walk away?" Hotch said seriously. "What if he wakes up and all he remembers is the last night he spent with Michael Peralta? What if he does decide to stay in California, have some barefoot ceremony in Santa Cruz where he vows to God and everyone that Michael is his new focus?" Now he was just needling Derek, but he had to admit though that the idea of Reid happily married, safe, and far from the Bureau was a nice idea. He was happy for any member of his team that was able to hold onto the kind of happiness that he'd neglected.

It was the first comforting image he'd had of Spencer in a long time. Spencer standing on some sandy beach, hair wind-blown, barefoot, and beaming happily at the man they'd both been poised to rip limb from limb not more than a few days ago. He could see Spencer in one of his sweater vests, khaki pants, and Converse shoes coming through the door of a colorfully painted Victorian after a long day of teaching at a local university. He could see Spencer in an elaborate study, lined floor to ceiling with texts, and Reid happily curled up on a couch, reading to the man who would listen to him with rapped attention. Jason's departure was capitulation – weakness dressed up as soul-searching. Spencer had earned the right to walk away and there wasn't a member of team that would begrudge him.

"Why him?" Derek said, finally letting out a long-held huff of frustration. "More than a half of a million men in San Francisco and Reid had to gravitate to an ex-con!"

Aaron laughed, heartily. "Sitting at his bed side, threatening to maim Peralta, and everything else you've done for him – Reid is well aware of how transference works. If he is aware, which is unlikely, he most likely considers it to one-sided. It's Reid we're talking about, Morgan – he's not about to make any blatant overtures," Aaron paused, softening his expression as Morgan still looked angry and frustrated, "He needed someone that didn't know what we knew, Derek. Our affection for each other is without a doubt, it has to be in this line of work, but it's unfair to expect him to take your support in that way."

"Solving my problems helping with your guilt, Hotch?" Derek said, a hint of cruelty in his tone.

"Would you have run to the Savings & Loan if you knew he never would return you affections, that way?" Hotch refused to stray from his line of questioning. "Spencer was trained. He's worked under some of the best profilers and FBI agents the Bureau has to offer," He nodded at Morgan, "his choice to go back to Oz was his choice. I wish I could have intervened. If he had called and told me his plans I would have ordered him to come home. It wasn't his job to hold Nathan Harris's hand during his psych evaluation and it was not his job to hold Keller's hand as they prepared him to die. Spencer made his choices, he took those risks, just as we all take those risks at times, and this time he risked too much, he was willing to give away too much for the peace of mind of a man who didn't deserve even the smallest iota of consideration." Aaron could still hear Spencer's indignant cry, 'So you're punishing me?' Aaron could recall his lines easily, 'No, I am using you.' It's what they did, after all. Just like when the Death Row inmate had requested to smell JJ's hair as compensation for the names and locations of additional victims; those trade-offs made him uneasy but his team made it easy for him. He could protest and like good soldiers they knew to walk straight into battle, to sacrifice what was needed for the greater good.

"They going to shut us down?" Derek asked, pulling Hotch from his memories.

"That remains to be seen," Derek's phone buzzed again, Hotch smiled at Morgan, "How is he? Still asleep?"

Morgan smiled, "Yeah, he's still out. He needed the sleep."

Hotch nodded, "If I could have taken his place, if I could have stood in for any of his suffering, I would have done it." Do you think he will forgive me? He wanted to ask but the Unit Chief remained silent.

Morgan nodded slowly, "We'll bring him home soon." Aaron still didn't look terribly confident at that assertion, "Hotch, he'll heal – we all do – and we'll be there for that. It's all we can do."

The two men spent the rest of the flight compiling their notes and varied plans of attack for Strauss's firing squad. If Spencer was coming home, he needed a home to come home to, and the survival of the BAU was an integral part of that.

#-#-#-#-#-#

It seemed appropriate that the meeting should take place after the sun had gone down. Under cover of darkness, Hotchner thought, shaking his head ruefully at the irony of it. Erin Strauss and the other members of the panel wanted to give the impression of oversight and transparency in this time of fiscal restrictions but it was just bluster. He was prepared, and after the stress of Reid's abduction, and all of the foibles and missteps that surrounded it, the only thing that worried him was keeping his temper in check.

It was also no surprise when Derek Morgan was called into the conference room first.

Morgan stayed behind the rich mahogany doors for over an hour. Knowing Erin, she probably even paced her tone according to the clock that was within her line of sight – anything to make Aaron squirm.

Where Derek left the conference room he looked angry which immediately became anxiousness, as he dug through his suit-pockets looking for his silenced cellular phone. Derek was so engrossed in a string of newly-received text messages that he didn't even notice Hotch when he passed by him and went in through the mahogany doors.

"Agent Hotchner, please take a seat." Erin Strauss' voice came coolly from the darkened end of the room.

Hotch drew in closer, to see a simple desk set in front of a long panel of seats. In the center of the panel was Erin Strauss, to her left was her immediate supervisor, and to her right was an older man – a more senior member of the Bureau. At the end of the panel, and purely for ornamental purposes, Aaron was sure, were two fresh-faced agents – the closest they could come to members of the public without compromising security.

Their questions bordered on banal job interview questions, inane askings that Hotch was sure, the cadets on the end could have handled just as smoothly. What provisions had he taken to ensuring the teams safety? What opportunities for continued physical training?

One member of the panel had his evaluation for the team members in front of him and he was actually reading from Spencer's evaluation. Hotch had given him favorable marks in everything and, for that quarter, he had nothing negative to add about any addition field risks Reid would pose.

Then the questions took a sharp left turn, "Agent Reid was able to establish himself within the BAU at a fairly uncharacteristic young age, given his recent traumas in the field would it be prudent for the rest of your team to consider his reassignment to another area within the Bureau?"

As Hotch listened to his superior his eyes narrowed in comprehension of the suggestion.

"Agent Hotchner, you'd been considered for a position within the white-collar crimes division, perhaps with Agent Reid's propensity with numbers and information retention, he may be more useful in a comparable position." The man's sounded paternalistically condescending but for a moment Hotch was willing to entertain the idea.

It was an alluring fantasy, for sure. The idea of getting home from a case and watching contentedly as the team staggered through the Bureau doors, as Spencer walked in the opposite direction looking well-rested and safe. It wasn't as if an UnSub had never tracked them to the BAU and it was foolish for anyone in a large office complex to assume total security, even in a Federal building.

"I have no doubt," Aaron began after taking a sip of the water in front of him to clear his throat, "that Dr. Reid will excel within any area of the Bureau but his place is with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Each member of our team contributes a unique set of knowledge and skills that allows us to hold the kind of successful record that we do. Interviewing Christopher Keller at the Oswald facility was a potentially fatal venture for any of the agents who would have attempted to conduct that interview," Hotch paused, taking in the looks of incredulity that faced him.

He continued, "I have a flawless marksmanship record, as well as top marks in hand-to-hand, and other defense techniques. Yet years ago, when Reid and I were unexpectedly locked in with another Death Row rapist and murderer it was Dr. Reid, not I, who made sure that we escaped unscathed. Dr. Reid is an eloquent and intelligent speaker that I would entrust with my life at any moment and that day, I did. The attack on Dr. Spencer Reid is the sole fault and direct result of the negligent leadership of the Oswald facility. If Spencer had received the support from the corrections officers at the facility, the attack would have never occurred-"

Strauss interrupted, "The officer in charge of Death Row had indicated Agent Reid as the instigator of the events that had transpired and furthermore, we have word from several of the prison officials that would imply a level of, shall we say, inappropriateness between the two," Hotch tried to hear her words, tried to formulate a reasonable response to such an unreasonable accusation.

"I am not sure if any of my team members would stand up to the scrutiny of the untrained, uneducated eye of the general public. Isn't that one of the biggest assets we provide to local law enforcement? We know how to interrogate and communicate with members of society that they've shut out. You've observed first-hand," Aaron looked squarely at Erin Strauss, "the shoddy effort and understanding that some put forth – law enforcement officers that substitute brutality for psychology. Dr. Spencer Reid is the antithesis of that, he can maintain a cool and analytical mindset even in the most trying of circumstances. It was because of Dr. Reid that we were able to bring in several serial murderers bloodlessly, and with a confession. In past situations, I'd seen Agent Gideon hold hands and physically comfort a woman that then was determined to be our UnSub. Emily Prentiss acted as babysitter and doled out snacks to an UnSub that was underage, all the while as he happily shared his punishment and murder of his younger brother, the family pets, and his other fantasies. I am sure neither situation would have sat well with some high-school graduate, disgruntled, corrections officer." Hotch took a deep breath and opened the folder in front of him and then encouraged the members of the panel to observe the information that he'd provided them.

"Dr. Spencer Reid's abduction by Allan Ng has been determined as a tragic accident. Through several moments of coincidence, Dr. Reid made contact with the object of Allan Ng's obsessional rage. If David Rossi was scheduled to speak at that bookstore just a day before Dr. Reid found himself there, Rossi could have just as easily made contact with Michael Peralta and gained the attention of our UnSub, Allan Ng." Aaron held out the first photograph of the newly-opened bank vaults.

"Allan Ng had operated undisturbed for months out of the Hibernia Savings and Loan. Given Dr. Reid's current residence as it was in relation to Ng's place of work, home, and other frequented areas – he had the potential of running afoul of Ng with or without his interactions with Peralta. Dr. Reid's abduction led to the end of Ng's reign of terror over the city of San Francisco." Hotch held up another, more detailed shot of one of the neglected vaults that contained one of Allan's earlier kills.

The older man looked at seriously at Agent Hotchner, "I am willing to delay the findings of this board until Dr. Reid can receive a full evaluation and provide his preference of remaining within the BAU given his trauma." The older man gave a look of firm authority down at the other members of the panel. "In three weeks time, we will review your recommendations, as well as Dr. Reid's suggestions for his tenure at the Bureau." Strauss tried not to let her feelings of anger come across too boldly as she tried to object. The older man waved a hand in her direction as her counter-argument began to pick up steam.

"No," The older man said firmly, his free hand coming into his jacket pocket to finger a loose gold medallion inside. "Agent Hotchner has followed protocol to the letter and Agent Morgan could account for each shot and his reasoning behind it, the local PD has enough information to lay to rest many claims filled by families who were missing their sons. All that is left is for Allan Ng's final victim, Dr. Reid, to recover. Agent Hotchner, please convey to him our wish for his quick and full recovery. His job, in whatever form he would like it to take, waits for him when he returns."

Aaron rose from his chair, pleased to not have to take in anymore dire news but also puzzled as to how Reid had earned the appreciation from such a senior member of the Bureau.

#-#-#-#-#-#

It had only been a week since he'd seen Spencer but the condition he'd left him in was less than comforting. It had been the second time in the span of months that Derek Morgan had stood next to a barely conscious and battered Dr. Spencer Reid. He'd never become accustomed to the level of fear and rage that ran through him with each sight of discolored or swollen skin. If it hadn't been for Garcia sending him those updates while Reid was in recovery, he would have lost his mind.

After the meeting with IA, Derek had found a way to make peace with Agent Hotchner. He had turned down the other leadership positions in the past, Derek told himself, and it was for dreading the possibility that he would find himself in a situation not unlike Hotch's current predicament. Aaron was the captain and if Reid sank on his watch, well it would be only natural to feel the need to go down with the ship. How could he stay if his orders had led to the decimation of one of the members of his team?

Derek had slung that question and more in Hotch's direction and through several tense and emotional conversations, Derek found his way back to empathy. But of course, Aaron Hotchner was never one for pulling his punches either.

Derek wasn't about to divulge those thoughts that Hotchner had called him on in the plane and he stood in front of Spencer Reid's apartment door wondering if he ever would dare to articulate how he felt.

Derek swallowed his nervousness and rapped again on Reid's apartment door. He could hear feet moving quickly towards the door and after a pause at the peephole, the door was flung open and before Morgan could prepare himself Reid was in his arms.

"Woah," Derek said, stepping back in surprise but not hesitating in wrapping his arms around the slender young man. "Feeling's mutual, pretty boy!" He squeezed Reid gingerly before stepping back again from the hug.

Reid was already staring at his feet, a hue of redness gracing his cheeks and nose. "You're the first one to see me." He said a bit sheepishly.

"Does that mean you've got some cleaning to do before I come in?"

"No," Reid said, matter-of-factly in his clear, up-beat tone, "for the first time the couch is book-free. I've been sleeping there most of the time, so…yeah," Reid cut himself off and sat down at one end of the couch throwing his bed pillow off the side of the couch where it would be hidden by the couch's arm.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," Derek began but Reid just smiled reassuringly. "Garcia called once she knew I was awake – what, did you have her hack into the hospital records or something – but I wasn't alone much while I was there."

Derek didn't want to inquire as to Reid's meaning but did not mean to blurt out the first thing that came to his mind, "Will you be going back?"

"To the hospital?" Reid asked, sounding perfectly serious, "No, everything is healed for the most part. I still have to mind a few things, no heavy lifting –" Reid chuckled, "but other than that, I am clear for 'whatever I feel up to' the doctor said." Reid said looking at Derek as if to reassure him.

"No, Reid," Derek said with a bit more sadness than he had intended, "back to San Francisco?"

Morgan would have sold his soul for the look that Reid had taken on to be directed at him. At the mere hint of Michael, Reid's cheek had gone red again, he was fidgeting slightly with hem of his polo shirt, and looking generally adorable.

"No," Reid mumbled, shifting so he could tuck one of his khaki-covered legs underneath himself, "I don't think I will be."

Then Morgan watched as the giddiness faded from Spencer's demeanor and he seemed to remember what his future truly held. "We're not going to try and make a go of it. He said he wouldn't let me," Reid said, not looking up at Morgan, "'What would an ex-con at the other end of the country really have to offer long term for an FBI genius?' Was something to the effect of what he said."

Morgan smiled inwardly. Apparently, this Michael kid wasn't as dumb as he looked.

Reid shook his head, "It wasn't about abandoning me. Every time I call, he answers and he isn't cold towards me or anything like that. I guess, I know where he's coming from. It's just…" Reid looked at the other end of the couch, toward Morgan, for understanding. "Are you here to tell me that Hotch has relieved me of any attachment here? Am I free to go back to California?" Reid gave a rueful laugh.

"Hotch has been ordered to submit you to a six-month-long evaluation and field-recertification. Hotch said the Executive Director had made the request." Reid nodded happily at the good news. Then looked at Derek and his smile promptly grew into a frown, "How does Hotch plan on accomplishing that? I only know of one hand-to-hand instructor and I am pretty sure he wouldn't be willing to throw me around the ring for a second chance at a remediation." Reid tried to remain serious but felt his chapped lips curl into a smile.

"Ready any time you are, pretty boy." Derek said with a playful laugh, swatting at Reid's arm but immediately regretting the carefree gesture when Reid jerked back sharply.

Reid immediately began to apologize. Derek held up the same hand as if to quiet Spencer, "Have you been sleeping?"

"Better than the last time you saw me in a hospital bed," Reid said, looking back down at his lap and avoiding Morgan's look of concern. "I don't remember much of what happened but I remember the dreams I had then, does that make any sense? There is this blankness where that week used to be. I want to go back but for once, I am glad not to have a memory." Reid stopped, thought unfinished, as he looked up at Derek with a look of pure distress, "What if I come back and the memories come back, like they did with Hankel and the girls in the leaves. Gideon had written me before he left saying that he just needed to find his belief in things ending happily again. I guess, I just need to know that things can stay forgotten."

Morgan moved forward on the couch, reaching out for Reid's free hand – the one not occupied by fidgeting- and held it in his, "It will come back, Reid. Don't push away the ones that could help you through them."

Reid didn't have it in him to get angry. He wouldn't throw the forced junket onto Morgan's shoulders. Morgan had been the one to sit beside him through all of that and by all accounts looked guilty, (and could that be, jealous?) that he was denied that position once again.

Reid shook his head again, "I know what Gideon meant though. He'd lost that one person who understood him but was removed from all of this. You and Rossi have gone above and beyond what you needed to do for me. But how can I stay knowing that I need so much more than an endless stack of textbooks and case-files to make it through sundown?"

Derek laughed when Reid dejectedly gestured to a stack of such proportions threatening to overwhelm his dining area table. Morgan extended an arm in Reid direction and Spencer didn't take a moment's pause before scooting closer and tucking into the embrace. "I plan on being here no matter what you decide and if the memories do come back," He took Reid's fidgeting hand in his and squeezed it, "we'll be ready for them."

Spencer paused to consider what Derek had asserted. He thought of Rossi talking him into sleep at the beginning of their trip. He thought of meetings he could attend to set his mind at ease, to avoid being alone, and to impress upon his sponsor today in the IA meeting, that he was committed to the straight-and-narrow. He knew he'd done nothing wrong but something about being seen to fall in line felt very important. He'd do everything they required of him because in the end, eventually –they would let up – they would let up, and through the fog, he'd find his way back to Michael and to The City.

A/N: Well, this had been sitting on my desktop incomplete since August. WOW! Thank you, all for your continued interest and patience. I can already feel a third part nagging at my brain so this isn't the end – not yet, anyhow. I hope this resolved some of the questions you had and that there wasn't too much schmaltz at the end. Thanks again and I hope you have a fabulous 2013!