Disclaimer: Criminal Minds doesn't belong to me and I am not gaining any sort of profit from writing this (except perhaps my ego from all of your kind and loving reviews wink wink nudge nudge).


I wish that I could help you
But you seem less than helpless
I always tried to tell you
Someday that it'd seem so special

- Sugar

I know that it doesn't do me any good to blame myself for things I can't control. Hell, I do it all the time. Everyone knows it. But I just can't help myself. There's always that twinge in my chest, that…little voice in the back of my head that's always whispering, 'what if you'd have been there? Could you have made it better? Made a difference?'

But the second I saw Reid's face when he shut that sliding glass door told me there was nothing I could have done. He looked at me, face full of regret and concern for me, and I looked right back, panicked to my core. What had he done?

"I'm sorry…"

I saw the powder and I felt my heart break. This kid, who had seen so much more and been through so much more than he should have had to go through at his age had saved my life. Even now, running to and fro in that room of death, he was still focused on continuing the case to try and find the answer. Most would think he was doing it to find the cure for himself, but those of us who know Reid know better.

I stare ahead at the white tents surrounding the room that my partner –Goddamn kid locked himself in there and kept me away to keep me safe – was locked in, and I can't do a damn thing about it. It's infuriating. Those that know me know I'm not so good at handling the 'sitting back and watching' bit that occasionally occurs in our line of work. All the more reason why I respect Garcia.

I listen as his labored breathing and fast speech flow through my cell and into my ears as he continues to search for clues to help us. We're outside – I should be in there with him, not out here – waiting for him to find something, anything, that will reveal something. Garcia delivers bad news, and rough coughing interrupts my train of thought.

I just can't take this anymore.

We've come to a realization. Chad Brown. God help him if I come within firing distance…

Garcia hangs up to call Hotch. I shift my attention to Reid. I can hear his labored breathing. "Kid, you did real good. Now get the hell out of there." I mean it.

He lets out a choked "Bye," and he's gone. I close the phone, pocket it, and clench and unclench my fists.