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'Aaron, what are you doing?' He tought.

When he had seen Reid acting so... careless, totally not paying attention to what he said, he got mad.
He was going to tell the kid exactly how he felt about this behavior. But as soon as he finished his explanation,
the younger agent practicly runned out of the room.

What else could he do then follow him?

Reid turned right to the showers and then walked on to the lockers. From the sight of it, he wanted to be alone,
because now he was scanning the room and the hall for people.

When he didn't saw anyone (Hotch had managed to find a good hiding spot just in time) he sat down on the bench, hunched over with his eyes closed. He made a sort of strangled noise, like he was about to cry. Hotch felt like he was intruding the kid's privacy, but he couldn't just walk away now.

The younger agent started searching trough his messenger bag, and Hotch would swear he heard a wheezing sound coming from the boys lips.
Every piece of the puzzle fell in place the moment Reid took a small, blue item from his bag. An inhaler.

'Albuterol. Asthma medicine.' his brain told him. He felt so stupid, and guilty. He had been mad at him, suspected a relapse even, all because of a disease. The kid couldn't help it, right? He probably had enough problems already without it.

He watched as the genius struggled to breathe in his first dose of medication. God, how long was the attack going on already?
'He must have had it while I was doing my explanation about the suspect.' he tought.

Reid took one, two, three hits on his inhaler, and then sat down with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands,
trying to take deep, steady breaths and miserably failing. Hotch felt sorry for the kid, wished he could do something to help, but after all, he hadn't been here, right?

Reid took one last puff. 'Relax, man. Get yourself together.' He coached himself.
Once his breathing had evened out a little, he gathered his stuff and left.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

The ride in the SUV was filled with silence.
Maybe it was because they were on their way to catch another cold-blooded murderer, but Hotch had a strong feeling that wasn't the only reason:
they could all feel the tension in the air, especially around him.

He couldn't get what happened earlier out of his head. Thoughts kept swirling around in his skull, giving him a headache.

'How long has he had it? Since he was a kid? What about his mother? Did he have to manage it all by himself?'
He rubbed his head in frustration. What díd he know?

He didn't even had a clue that the youngest agent had asthma. How could he not know?

Reid had a physical examination to get with the FBI, but they didn't find anything wrong. After all there were plenty good field agents that suffered from asthma. Since Hotch was his medical proxy, he could've read his file. But he never did that. Most of the time what was in the files was private.
He had assumed that if there was something important the genius would've told him about it.

As Hotch thought about that he felt the familiar feeling of anger rise. Why hadn't he told him?

Sorry, I know this isn't the best chapter ever, but I was in a hurry to finish it because I'm going to a place with no Internet for a week and I wanted to give you guys something. Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, or followed. You're the best!