The green of the street signs meshed into the similarly colored branches and leaves of the trees that hung over and around them. Morgan pushed his foot into the brake, slowing as he approached the bright red stop light hanging over the intersection. As he waited at the empty intersection for the light to change so he could go, he turned the volume on the radio up, and bobbed his head a little to the beat.

The light turned green.

Without giving it a second thought, Morgan removed his foot from the brake and pressed it into the gas, driving into the intersection. Just as the back of his car began to pass the intersection, he heard the crunching metal, and felt the car spin out. In the next moment, he saw the blurred and darkened colors of another car as it soared passed his and into the ditch, melded into the trees, the lamp post, and as he came to a stop, he was facing the ditch that had been on the passenger side of his car only moments before. He stared, wide-eyed, ahead of him, before quickly patting his seatbelt, murmuring a quiet and repetitive thank you as he unbuckled himself. Morgan stumbled from the car, fumbling at his pockets for his cell phone, and looked around in a daze. The entire back end of his car was crumpled into itself, and all his back windows were shattered, the glass shards splattered across the road. For a few moments, as the cell phone connected Morgan to 911, he had forgotten about the other car.

"This is Derek Morgan…I'm…I'm on the corner of…" His voice was clearly shaken – as was he – as he stumbled to see what the street signs were. "…of Oak and Charles…someone just slammed into me…some…" Morgan spun towards the other ditch, before rushing over, snapping his phone shut and pocketing it as he did. The engine was sputtering, and from inside he could hear sobbing and partial cries. He jogged around to the driver's side, and pulled the door open. The driver, a young woman, looked up with a clearly startled expression as she cried out and tried to wiggle out of her seat.

"Please, please…do-don't hurt me," she begged, tears pouring down her face. Morgan shook his head.

"Come on, let's get you out of there…" he said, his mind starting to clear as he reached in to unbuckle her seatbelt.

He paused, hands near her waist, and tilted his head. Her shirt and jeans were covered in a dark substance, one that was difficult to classify but had a distinctive and familiar odor. Lifting his eyes, Morgan saw that her fingers were still clutching the wheel, and she didn't look scared – she looked absolutely terrified.

Behind him, Morgan could hear the faint sounds of the sirens as they raced towards that intersection, but it was just a faint sound to him – his attention and concentration was on this moment, as he stared at the young woman inside the car.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, carefully reaching to move her hands off the wheel. Instead of speaking, she whimpered, and simply shook her head. "Then…why are you…"

"It…it isn't mine," she squeaked, her voice clenched in an attempt to hold back any more sobs or screams. Morgan stopped, his hands on her wrists, before looking up at her.

"What isn't?"

"The blood…it's not mine," she said, her voice giving way and a releasing a sob as she dropped her chin towards her chest.

[PAGE BREAK]

Morgan looked over from where he sat in the back of the ambulance, watching as a black SUV pulled up nearby, and parked along the side of the road. The engine shut off, the door opened and closed, and he shook his head as an older man passed the police car. He flashed his identification, before approaching the ambulance.

"You okay, Morgan?" he asked, looking around at the scene.

"I'm fine. Bump on the head. My car, on the other hand…" he chuckled, shaking his head. "Why'd you come out here, Hotch? If I was in trouble, I'm sure you'd be the first to know."

"I got call that your name went out on an emergency call, wanted to be sure. So…what happened?" Morgan looked around the door of his ambulance, and motioned to the other ambulance, where the young woman sat, still shaking.

"I had the green light…she ran it, rear-ended me. Incredibly bizarre, though – she's covered in blood that she said wasn't hers." Hotch raised an eyebrow.

"Definitely doesn't sound good, does it?" he asked. Morgan shook his head, and the two looked over as the EMTs stepped back to help the woman stand. "Did you get a name?"

"Nah…I had just gotten her outta the car when they showed up…didn't have the chance to ask."

She stood up, and carefully pushing a few stray strands of her hair behind her ear, sniffling slightly as the officer that has spoken to Hotch approached her.

"What happened." It wasn't a question, so for a moment, she simply looked at him, until his look became one of impatience, and she gulped.

"…I…I don't know. I…I ran the light, but…but I couldn't stop, I tried to stop," she said, shaking her head as she clasped her hands.

"Sure…what's with the blood?" the officer asked. She looked at him, and blinked, before looking down at her clothes.

"I really don't know…I…I just know it isn't mine." The officer glanced over his shoulder at Morgan and Hotch, before turning back, pausing to roll his eyes in disbelief.

"Do you know anything? Your name? That could give us a hand." Her lips parted, but instead of them continuing to move and form a name, all that came out was a soft squeak, and she closed her mouth, looking down in defeat.

"I can't remember my name," she spoke softly.

The officer moved, hooking his hand around her elbow, before leading her towards his car.

"Then, Miss No-Name, you will be coming to the station with me so we can figure this out…and we may even wind up bookin' you for something related to that crap on your clothes." Morgan climbed out of the ambulance, quickly moving towards the officer.

"Hey…wait a second…she's panicked, you're tellin' her she's gonna be booked when she has no idea what's going on?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She's covered in someone's blood, she doesn't know her name, and she ran a red – something I can book her for. You gonna tell me I can't?" he asked, opening the back door and pushing her inside.

"Actually, I am," Hotch said, moving up behind Morgan. "She crashed into an FBI agent – she's gonna come with me, and we're gonna handle this. But we'll keep you in the loop," Hotch explained, reaching around the officer and taking the girl's hand. He helped her out of the car, and led her towards his SUV, Morgan following behind them.

[PAGE BREAK]

The door closed, and Hotch moved quickly down the hall and into his office, waving his hand for the agents in the room to follow him. He moved around his desk, and turned to face the others, including Morgan, that followed him in, and, once the last in had closed the door, he nodded to them.

"I know you know about Morgan's accident earlier tonight. The woman we brought in is the one that hit him. She's in different clothes, but when Morgan got her out of the car, she was covered in blood she said wasn't her own – a check by the EMTs confirmed that. She doesn't know her name, or whose blood that was. She claimed she tried to stop the car, but couldn't, which is why she crashed into Morgan. Reid, I want you to go in and try to talk to her. She's terrified and confused, so…just talk to her – see if she remembers anything after she calms down…and take her some water." Reid, who stood near the door with his hands in his pockets, his hair tucked behind his ear, looked around the room for a second, and opened his mouth, before simply nodding, and exiting the room. Morgan glanced at Hotch, an eyebrow raised.

"You're sending in Reid? Not Prentiss, not Rossi, not JJ? Reid? Why?" he asked, clearly uncertain as he rubbed his hand over the bandage on his forehead.

"Reid isn't as threatening and overpowering a presence as the rest of us can be. I know Prentiss and JJ have a better connection to her because they're all women, but since she's still panicked, Reid seems to be our best bet to get her to calm down and talk."

Reid opened the door, peering in at the woman. She had her feet on the chair with her, hugging her knees to her chest, as she stared, unblinking, at the tabletop. Reid was cautious as he stepped closer and sat the cup down.

"I, uh…I'm Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm with the Behavioral Analysis Unit here at the FBI…." Her head lifted slightly, and she looked up at Reid with her cloudy grey eyes. He hesitated, but closed the door and sat across from her.

"Spencer Reid," she repeated slowly, before nodding. "It's…nice to meet you…" They sat quietly for a moment, before she gulped, and looked back at him. "Is he okay? The, uh…the guy I hit?" Spencer nodded, glancing over his shoulder through the window.

"He's fine. He said he just has a bump on the head. How are you doing?" he asked, crossing his hand on the table. She shrugged, and looked around the room.

"Aside from not being sure about anything, I think I'm okay…" Spencer looked at her, and tilted his head.

"I want to talk to you. Just talk, not necessarily about anything familiar. If you remember anything, go ahead and say it – it might be relevant to what happened tonight," he said, nodding his head. "Or if you need to get up and move, feel free. Generally, moving around, sounds, smells, sights, they all help to return memories that you've lost, or that you're blocking, so do what you need to. I mean, you know, within reason," he added, shaking his head. She chuckled, and nodded, before carefully getting up and moving around the room.

"I know...I remember the procedure…your boss is afraid that something bigger might be around the corner, so he wants you to talk to me to help me rem-…" She stopped, and turned around to look at Spencer, her eyebrows knitted together. He leaned forward, a curious expression formed on his face.

"Do you remember something?" he asked gently. Her eyes darted back and forth, before she dropped back into her chair.

"…Yeah…he's going to kill her…"