Author's Note: Information regarding the rapid detoxification process can be found here:

.com/rapid-detox

It is a fairly brutal process, but I think Reid can handle it. Also, insert obligatory legal jargon about ownership here.

"There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear." - John 4:18

March 1st, 2007

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Gideon asked. He looked down at his hands and flipped through the pages of Reid's Leave of Absence request form. The carbon paper crinkled softly as Reid prepared his answer.

It was the Monday following their return from New Orleans. Reid stood in Gideon's office nervously shifting his weight from on foot to the other and trying desperately to keep his shaking hands under control. Gideon had at first been somewhat confused when Hotchner had passed this particular duty onto hm.

"It's better for the team as a whole if I can maintain some semblance of deniable plausibility," Hotch had explained, "None of us can really say for sure that we know what's going on, although we all do have our suspicions. Besides, you have the best rapport with him, maybe he will open up to you."

Gideon couldn't argue with his reasoning and agreed to handle the situation. Now he sat waiting for the troubled young man in front of him to present him with an equally compelling argument.

"Considering everything that has happened I think that seeking treatment is my only option," Reid replied.

"No argument here," Gideon said as he laid the papers on his desk. "I just can't help wondering, why Vegas? Walter Reed has an excellent staff with more experience treating these kinds of problems than most, so...Why not here?"

"Recent events have helped me realize that my continued Dilaudid abuse is as much the result of unresolved guilt stemming from my mother's institutionalization as it is the more obvious Post Traumatic Stress.

"Ah..." Gideon smiled at Reid, and then scowled at the form sitting on his desk.

"There's a clinic in Las Vegas that specializes in rapid detoxification. I've already spoken to one of the doctors their and made an appointment for tomorrow," Reid answered, "That's why I only requested two weeks of personal leave. Also, cognitive-behavior therapy and immersion therapy are both highly effective for treating various psychological disorders including PTSD. By spending time in my childhood home, I'll be directly exposing myself to memory inducing objects that will trigger my guilt response. If I can work through those responses without resorting to the Dilaudid, then the rehabilitation process will be considered successful."

Gideon knew enough about the situation surrounding Reid's mother to know that, despite his guilt, she wouldn't be directly involved in his recovery.

"What about follow up care?" Gideon asked, "Detox alone isn't going to magically make it all go away."

"The clinic employs licensed psychologists as well as psychiatrists," Reid replied, "They schedule counseling appointments to begin immediately after the procedure as a part of their standard treatment protocol."

"And you think two weeks will be enough?" the older agent questioned with obvious doubt in his voice.

"If the therapy sessions are intense enough," he answered, his voice cracking slightly.

Gideon cocked an eyebrow at the younger man's response. Reid was faltering; he was scared, plain and simple, and no amount of statistical knowledge could remedy that. He had not seen him display this type of self-doubt since his early days working for the BAU. He was beginning to have serious doubts about sending his youngest agent more than half way across the country in his current condition. He and Hotchner were more than qualified to look after him following any kind of treatment, hell, so was half of the rest of the team, and Walter Reed's tried-and-true methods had been more than sufficient for other agents who had found themselves in similar situations. The parental part of Gideon's brain had kicked in to overdrive and he found himself wanting to do something akin to grounding the boy and sending him to his room until further notice.

He isn't a boy; Gideon had to remind himself, as he half-heartedly looked over the forms again.

"Do you have anyone there that can act as a support for you and a point of contact for us?" he asked.

Reid nodded. "Carmen Ortiz. Our mothers were friends, and we practically grew up as siblings." He paused to swallow the lump forming in his throat. "Her mother took care of my mother while I was away at school. In fact, she lives in the house now. I can leave all the contact information with Garcia."

Gideon sighed deeply as he begrudgingly signed the forms.

"I changed the classification from personal to medical," he explained, as he passed the stack of papers to Reid.

"But that increases the minimum duration from two weeks to eight," Reid protested, "What if a case comes up?"

"You need help, Spencer, not a vacation. If we need you that badly we'll know where to find you," Gideon replied flatly, "The Bureau needs you at your best. I need you at your best."

Gideon picked up his coffee cup and shook the thickening remnants thoughtfully, as if trying to read them like tea leaves. Apparently unable to discern anything meaningful from the brown sludge he stood and stretched.

"I'm gonna go get some coffee," he said as he walked past Reid and out of his office.

Reid stared in disbelief at the papers in his hand. He opened his mouth to plead his case but found himself without an audience. He knew that there was no point in trying to argue with Gideon. Not only was the man singularly stubborn, he was also right. Resigned to his fate, Reid took out his cell phone and dialed nervously.

"Old Soul's Antiques, Carmen speaking," the voice on the other end of the line chirped.

"Carmen, it's Spencer," he said, his voice cracking with emotion, "I need your help."
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Carmen Ortiz tapped her foot nervously as she sat waiting at the terminal one baggage claim of McCarran International Airport. Reid's call had scared her and the fear in his voice had nearly sent her into a panic. She knew his job was dangerous and she prayed for his safety every night. Of course, she had immediately thought the worst. She should have known something was wrong when he had missed their regular Sunday afternoon call. She had assumed he was on a case. It had happened before, but even then he had at least sent her a text to let her know what was going on.

He had given her no information over the phone except for the expected arrival time of his flight later that day. He had promised that he would tell her everything as soon as he got to Las Vegas. She had closed up her antiques shop and headed straight for the airport despite the fact that his flight wouldn't be arriving for several hours. She smiled as she thought about the fact that his mother had been the inspiration for her to open up the shop. Diana Reid had been fond of calling her an "old soul" when she expressed an interest in classical literature and history.

All she could do now was wait and worry. She closed her eyes and rolled the beads of her rosary through her fingers for what must have been the hundredth time in the hours she had been waiting. Her calming meditation was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder that caused her jump slightly. She looked up startled then smiled as she realized the hand on her shoulder belonged to Reid. Her smile quickly faded and her heart sank, however, as she got her first real look at him in months. The dark circles under his eyes and obvious weight loss made him look years older than his meager twenty seven.

"Oh, Spencer," she sighed, unable to hide the emotion in her voice.

She stood and threw her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close to her. She felt his body relax against her as he wrapped his arms around her waist. He buried his face curve of her neck and she could feel his tears on her skin. Her mind flashed back to the day Mrs. Reid had been taken away. They had stood on his front porch in this very position as the ambulance drove out of sight. That was the first time she had ever known him to cry. Somehow she knew it wouldn't be the last.

"Let's get you home and get some coffee in you," Carmen said pulling away from him and cupping his face in her hands, "Then you can tell me all about it. Okay?"

Reid nodded weakly and tried to smile. He was grateful to Carmen for coming to his rescue yet again. She was one of the few people with whom he could easily express emotion and they had been through a lot together over the years. He doubted he could have gone through with his decision to have his mother committed if it hadn't been for her. Since they were children, she had been strong when he had been week and he had been rational when she had been impulsive. They had realized early on that between the two of them anything was possible. That was the main reason he had insisted on returning home to deal with his addiction.
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Carmen wept as Reid recounted the events involving Hankel and his subsequent substance abuse. Sorrow, anger, and fear washed over her in waves. She would never understand how Reid could do what he did with the BAU, especially now after what had happened in Georgia. He had explained how he had deliberately missed going to an interview to see if he could walk away, and how he had realized that his job was an important part of his identity. She had only been able to shake her head at him in disbelief.

"He could have killed you. Hell, Spencer, he PLANNED to kill you!" she exclaimed, "What if you aren't so lucky next time? Then what? Am I supposed to go pick up your body at the airport?"

"Carmen, it's okay," he told her softly, realizing that she was going to need him as much he needed her to get through this, "Hankel is dead. And as soon as I can kick this Dilaudid thing he won't be able to hurt me anymore."

"You don't get it do you?" she asked, "You are all I have left. Your mother may be institutionalized, but mine is dead. You didn't even come home for her funeral, Spencer!"

"I was on a case," he retorted.

"Is that your excuse for everything?" she shouted back, "What if you aren't so lucky next time?"

She had intentionally repeated the question hoping it would get her point across. She sat staring at him and waiting for an answer. He watched her face for any waiver of emotion he could use to defuse the situation, but she was unrelenting. Defeated, he simply gazed into the coffee cup on the table in front of him.

Carmen sat back down next to him and took his hand in hers. She couldn't stay angry at him no matter how badly she wanted to. They sat in silence, something they had done a lot in the past. Somehow just being in the presence of one another had always been enough to help them through any situation they found themselves in. Nearly an hour passed before Carmen broke the quiet calm. Reid said nothing as he watched her rise, grab her sweatshirt and step through the back door onto the patio. He saw a familiar flicker in the dark and decided to follow her outside.

"Six minutes," he commented nonchalantly, watching her take a deep drag off of the cigarette between her fingers.

"You used to say that to your mother," she replied.

"It was true for her and it's true for you," he said, "Every one you smoke is six

minutes I don't get to spend with you."

"You actually have to be here before you can spend time with me," she snapped at

him.

Sorrow filled Reid's eyes, and guilt hit Carmen like a punch to the stomach as she realized her mouth had gotten ahead of her common sense.

"I'm sorry," Carmen whispered.

"You're right," he answered, also in a whisper, "I still worry about you, though, even if I'm not here."

Carmen snorted a half laugh and took another drag off the cigarette.

"I'm the least of your worries, Spencer," she said before snuffing the half-finished cigarette out in a nearby ashtray.

He watched as she stared into the night sky. This was one of those moments he wished he knew what to say. Actions speak louder than words, he thought to himself. Reid put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. Carmen rested her head on his shoulder inhaling deeply to take in his scent. She had missed having him here with her.

"Let's go in," Carmen said, after a few moments, "It's getting late and we have a long day tomorrow."
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Carmen sat up ramrod straight in the bad. She had been awoken by a strange noise in the house. Her hand instinctively went to the Louisville Slugger she kept next to the nightstand. She held her breath and listened intently in the darkness.

"No, please don't," she heard someone cry out," No, please, I don't want it. I don't want it."

It took a moment for her still sleepy brain to recognize the source of the sound.

"Spencer!" she screamed, "Spencer, hold on I'm coming! I'm coming!"

Carmen launched herself out of the bed and ran down the hall as fast as her legs could carry her. She threw open the door to Spencer's childhood bedroom, where he had insisted on sleeping. He was still crying out and thrashing in his sleep. She rushed to the side of the bed and grabbed his shoulders.

"Spencer! Spencer! Wake up, please!" she shouted over his cries, "Spencer, please, it's Carmen. Please, wake up!"

Reid's eyes flew open. In the dark, Carmen couldn't tell that he was not fully awake.

"Oh, thank God, "she whispered and reached out to sweep Reid's sweat soaked hair from his eyes.

"No!" he screamed and swung his fist through the air at what his mind perceived to be Tobias Hankel.

Reid's fist found its mark against Carmen's jaw. The pain in his hand jarred him fully awake as she stumbled back from the bed. She searched the wall next to the door behind her for the light switch. Flipping it on caused both of them to squint as their eyes adjusted. It was Reid who first saw the blood running down her chin onto her tee shirt.

"Carmen, what happened?" he asked darting towards her. He took her head in his hands and began inspecting the damage, "Are you alright?"

"You had a bad dream," she slurred, her bottom lip beginning to swell, "I came to check on you. Guess I should have worn protective head gear."

She tried to laugh, but it was clear that no amount of humor would ease the horror Reid felt at his own actions.

"Stay here," he commanded, "Don't move. I'll be right back."

Reid crossed the hall into the bathroom and returned with a wet washrag. He led Carmen to the bed and sat her on the edge. He knelt in front of her and carefully wiped the blood away from her mouth and chin as tears began to well in his eyes.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said quietly, continuing to clean the wound on her lip, "I am so sorry, Carmen. Please forgive me."

"Spencer, it's not your fault," she cooed, brushing the hair from his eyes and smiling, "I'm not hurt, really I'm not."

Spencer watched her face as she spoke. She was like an angel; quick to come to his aid and quicker to forgive his trespasses. He laid his head in her lap and let his tears fall freely for the second time that day. Carmen simply sat and let him cry as she lovingly ran her fingers through his hair to soothe him.

"I thought the Dilaudid would keep the nightmares away," he sobbed, "It only made them worse. I couldn't tell you the last time I had a decent night's sleep. Some days I drink so much coffee just to function that I think my heart is going to beat its way out of my chest."

Carmen stood and carefully pulled Reid onto his feet. This time it was she who sat him on the edge of the bed. She held his face in her hands and looked directly into his eyes.

"It will get better, Spencer. I promise," she told him, "Tomorrow is a huge step towards getting better. I would bet dollars to pesos that tomorrow night you will sleep like a baby."

"Yeah, but that will just be due to the after effects of the anesthesia and the pure physical exhaustion from the withdrawl," he mumbled.

"But I bet you won't have any nightmares," she replied, helping him back into bed.

Once he was settled, Carmen brushed his hair away from his once again and kissed his forehead.

"We'll get through this," she reassured him, "We always do."

As she turned to leave, Reid reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Carmen? Will you stay with me? Just in case." he asked.

Carmen freed herself from his grasp and walked across the room. Reid's heart sank at the thought that she was leaving him to battle his demons alone. To his relief he watched as she turned out the light and came back to the bed. She somehow managed to lay next to him the twin bed. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close to her. She buried her face in his hair and contemplated her fate.

Before tonight if anyone had asked her about her feeling for Spencer Reid she would have lied to them. She would have given them the whole "best friends since childhood" spiel. The truth was that she had been in love with him since she was fifteen years old. But Spencer Reid had plans, big plans, and that scared the crap out of her. She knew from an early age that she would never be his equal, and feared that he would eventually grow bored with plain and simple Carmen Ortiz whose only goal in life was to study art history at UNLV.

She had confessed all of this to her mother one night after returning home from ending yet another ill-conceived relationship. That had been three years ago; six months before her mother's car accident. That night had changed her life and it had changed her. That was the night she found herself alone in the world except for Sunday evening phone calls and the sporadic visits from Reid. That was the night she had decided to live for the moment instead of worrying about the future and dwelling on the past. That was the night she had decided to follow her dreams because life was just too damn short.

Well, every dream except one; she thought to herself. Maybe, just maybe if she told him things would change. Hell, it was worth a shot. The worst that could happen was that she would just go on living her lie.

"Spencer," she whispered, "I l…I love you."

"I love you, too, Carmen," he whispered back, snuggling closer to her.

Carmen's heart leaped for joy in her chest, but the he continued.

"You have been there for me through everything, good and bad," he whispered as he drifted back to sleep, "I don't know where I would be without a friend like you."

Carmen suddenly felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. She took a deep breath and fought back her tears. She pulled Reid closer to her and held him as tightly as she could without waking him.

"You really, don't get it, do you?" she whispered, no longer able to keep her tears at bay.