A/N: I know it seems like I'm throwing stories at you guys, but I'm trying to expand my mind on certain topics. I'm trying to complete at least one multi-chapter story.

This idea came into a dream of mine last night. I couldn't NOT write bout it. I apologize if Reid is OOC, but this is how I feel that he'd react to his mother's death.

Disclaimer: I Don't Own Criminal Minds

Fanfiction Trailer: watch?v=QJHeeGxYFiw

The clock was taunting him by moving the handle slower than usual.

Tick...tock...tick...tock.

"You didn't have to come," Reid murmured to his team quietly, with his left leg bouncing in anxiety. He kept looking toward the hospital door, praying for his mother to just walk through them and tell him that it was just some sick joke she had been planning for a long time. He was tired, he was scared, and when these two things tied together it wasn't going to be good. From three to four in the morning is considered the "devil's hour", and that's when Reid got the phone call that his mother slit her wrists. A call at three in the morning was never to bring good news.

Tick...tock...tick...tock.

"Don't even say that, Reid," Hotch said, his face softened, "The team is here for you always, you know that." Reid nodded absentmindly, keeping his eyes on the door with intense focus. His focus was soon broken since he flinched when two slender arms tried to hug his neck soothingly. He turned around to see JJ, who was trying to hug him as a token of sympathy. He knew JJ would get like this, she was a mom, after all.

He almost snorted. Not my mom. He didn't hug her back, nor did he push her away, he just went back to staring at the door, remaining frozen in place. He glanced quickly at the clock, it was laughing at him now, taunting him with the handle moving even slower than ever.

Tick...tock...tick...tock.

This was not happening.

She has to be okay.

Maybe he should've visited, or perhaps not. He couldn't stand to see his mother deteriorate any further had she shown some suicide ideation at the Sanitarium. Then again, he would've noticed and put a stop to it. He ran his fingers in his hair roughly in distress.

How the hell did she even cut herself?

Why didn't anyone say anything?

Did the doctors and nurses secretly know?

And did they try changing her medication? I certainly wasn't told anything.

"Kid," Reid's head snapped to his right, where the voice came from. Only one person called him Kid, as of right now, he really wish he was one right now. Morgan continued, "We just gotta hope for the best. Diana was a strong woman." Was. What a disgusting word.

"Is," Reid spat at him, "Don't talk about her like she's dead, Morgan. She'll be fine." Morgan was taken aback by his hostility until he realized that he shouldn't be surprised. Reid's mother was the only family he had. He traced back to the conversation he once had with her about his father:

"If it were up to him, you'd have a house full of brothers and sisters."

"So you didn't want kids?" Reid asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

"Why mess with perfection?" Diana Reid questioned back, with a wink.

He sighed. He didn't consider himself to be perfection, he really didn't want to go through this alone. Stop. He thought, She's fine, this is just a dream. She wouldn't leave you, she's not dad.

"Family of Diana Reid." His thoughts were interrupted by not his mother walking through the door, but a doctor and his clear voice echoing in the waiting room. Once Reid stood up, all of his colleagues stood up. Everything was in slow motion entirely, he felt like he was dragging his feet across the floor to the doctor.

With every slow step, his foot after the other with reluctance and dread, the clock would move, mocking his every move.

Tick. Step. Tock. Step. Tick. Step. Tock. Step.

He reached the doctor. The clock made the same noise after every sentence he said to Reid.

Tick...

"She lost a large amount of blood once she cut herself."

Tock...

"We tried to stop the bleeding as much as we could."

Tick...

...Time stands still.

The final, dreadful sentence was here, that no one wanted to hear:

"...We couldn't repair the damage. I'm so sorry. She just passed–"

...Stop.

He waited to hear the tock of the clock, but it wasn't coming. Everything froze in place, he couldn't hear anything, and he wanted to unsee this dream that he was sure he was in. No, it was a nightmare. Yes, he was sure it was a nightmare. Knowing his past, desth wasn't very kind to him. This would've been awful if it were real, except that it was.

Silence.

Reid swallowed hard, and turned around to see the pityful looks on his teammates faces. Why are they sad? This is, no doubt, a dream! He burst out laughing at the sudden news, as if what the doctor said had fallen on deaf ears.

"Death is a shadow," he said, giggling madly. Everyone else around him had the urge to take a step back, that was the most unnatural laugh, no—noise, that had ever escaped from Reid's lips.

"Reid," Hotch said softly, "I know this is very difficult for you, but we're all here for you." Reid just laughed again, now Hotch was even more worried.

"Guys! She didn't die! She wouldn't leave me! She's here, this is just a sick dream!" He expected the doctor to shout out, 'Gotcha!' and show him his mother, completely unharmed.

"Reid, she's gone," Hotch tried to press, it was so damn hard. Garcia tried to hug him, hoping he'd snap out of it, but he only pushed her away, his eyes flashing madly,

"She's not dead! Do you hear me?!" He shouted, actually shouted. Hotch used every strength that he had to not react to Reid losing his temper suddenly.

"Kid, she died. I'm sorry," Morgan tried to intervene quietly, not being able to hide the evident shock on his face. Reid turned on him too.

"Shut up! I don't believe you! Diana Reid is alive and well!" Morgan shook his head, wishing that were the case.

"No, Reid. She isn't. I'm sorry, man, she was a great woman—"

"Don't say that word!" Reid hissed angrily, "'Was', what an ugly word! Stop talking about her like she's dead!" He didn't care that the whole hospital heard him scream, he didn't care if he sounded so unlike himself. Out of character? Oh well. He didn't want to hear Morgan's lies anymore. He stormed out of the hospital in a contorted rage, not once looking back.

Hotch was astounded. The young man that was in front of him appeared to be delusional, but he truly wasn't, he knew. To anyone else, Reid would've been classified as delusional. But to Hotch, and the other profilers he worked with, they knew how his mind worked.

This was the beginning of the five stages of grief. Everyone goes through them. Geniuses like Dr. Reid are no exception. He would eventually intellectualize the situation until he couldn't anymore.

Reviews are greatly appreciated.