Paper Cranes

'It's not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.' - Epictetus

5782… That's how many paper cranes he'd folded since 21st October 2008.

His fingers had already grown accustomed to the monotonous folding… 'Triangle, triangle, open up, rectangle, fold side, fold side…' He bet that he could find 10 serial killers and be folding paper cranes all the way through it.

He would fold anything, from the file paper which he received on the case, or the scrap paper on his desk, the patient lists… his hands seemed to move on their own accord.

People said that if you fold 1000 paper cranes you get a wish, and the wish should come true. He was already at 5790… and every time he made 1000 he would make the same wish, it just hadn't come true yet – or so he tried to convince himself.

-----

"Reid, seatbelt."

"But we're Federal Agents, we don't need to wear seatbelts, plus did you know how many road accidents there are a year? There are about 42,884 deaths in the United States alone! And in that 55% of those deaths said to have been caused due to the driver or passengers not wearing a seatbelt!"

"Reid…" The dark eyes stared into his lighter ones, he knew he'd lost.

"Okay, okay, okay. Stop glaring." Reid sighed and pulled the seatbelt across his chest and into the buckle. "You should wear yours too."

"I'm a Supervisory Special Agent -Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, I don't need one."

Reid pursed his lips, crossing his arms and fiddling with the button and the end of his shirt whilst Hotch started up the engine. He hated it when he didn't get his way, perhaps that was why he was called the baby of the group… Well, other than the reasons of being younger than everyone else and all that stuff…

"But Hotch, it's not fair…" Reid started only to be cut off at mid- sentence, by a light kiss on the forehead.

"No, you're not telling me what is fair and not fair." Hotch relaxed as they went onto the highway.

The phone rang.

"Aaron Hotchner." Reid saw the expression on Hotch's face change drastically. "Yea, sure. We'll be there in fifteen minutes. We've got our bags; tell the team we're leaving in thirty." He paused. "Uh huh. Yea, sure. Mm… Brief the team first; you can brief us on the plane…"

-----

They never got there; the wheels never went up in thirty. They never went to investigate the case in Minnesota involving the killings of young girls with two pigtails. Instead, they ended up in the Hospital sitting next to their boss in a coma and a distraught Dr. Reid with minor injuries.

-----

At first, everyone from the team would come down every day to see their boss in a coma, speak to the un-responding man of whatever had happened that day or repeat events of yesterday with more detail.

Soon enough, the daily visits became once every other day. Then become once every four days… five days. Once a week… Once every fortnight…

Soon enough Hotch was replaced Rossi and Gideon came back 'just to stand in as a team member until Hotch got back.' He had said, but everyone knew that even if Hotch got better, the chances of him coming back to work in the bureau were slim.

Reid would still go to the Hospital every day, the same way in which he wrote a letter to his mother every day. He'd talk to Hotch about every detail of his day, how the leaves had turned orange… Anything.

-----

There were times he'd sit in silence and watch the rise and fall of his boss/ secret lover's chest. It didn't really qualify for 'lover' status quite yet. They hadn't been together for anymore than 2 weeks, still sorting out how everything worked, sorting out their differences.

Reid would still blush at how Hotch would baby him whenever he went over, cooking food, reading, watching TV… Always keeping an eye out for him… That was when Reid finally found out how it would have been like to be a child in the average family.

-----

When Hotch first went out of it, Reid hadn't been as devastated as he was now. When Hotch first went into a coma, doctors said that he'd most likely snap out of it within half a year to a two years, but if Hotch didn't then he'd most likely never wake up again.

It was not until Reid realized that no matter how hard he tried his fingers could never quite mimic Hotch's calloused and rough ones. When Reid began to try harder, he learnt that you can't surprise yourself with your own fingers. When he found that he found that after time, unlike the texts that he read, the feelings and the memories would slowly begin to fade, until he couldn't remember the details of how Hotch would hold him when he slept. It was when he began to find that he couldn't remember to perfectly the way in which Hotch said 'I love you'. Every time he tried to recall the voice, the sound seemed less real, less crisp… Until the voice became so blurred that it no longer sounded special.

That was when Reid broke down in his apartment; tears blurred his vision until he could barely see where his was going. It was then that Reid pulled the drugs from the storeroom along with the worn leather belt and the syringes. He knew he needed the high.

-----

6000…

"I wish that Hotch comes back." He whispered.