*Thanks to reviewers, as always, and thanks for reading! I hope everyone likes this chapter!*

Hotch fumbled with his keys, struggling to keep his eyes open as he emitted a loud yawn.

"Wake up," he muttered to himself. He shoved the keys in the ignition, blinking rapidly. Jack had been having nightmares lately; which meant he'd gotten a total of two hours of sleep last night.

He pulled out of the driveway, reaching across the seat to take a large swig of coffee; he choked, spluttering, when he realized he had forgotten sugar. This caused him to spill the rest of the coffee into his lap. As he reached across to the glove compartment for napkins, he was forced to swerve wildly across the road to avoid killing his neighbor's cat.

By the time he got into work, Hotch was in a very bad mood.

"Hey, boss," Morgan said as he walked in, giving him an easy grin. He looked him up and down. "What happened to your pants?"

Hotch gave him an exasperated look. "Coffee," he said shortly, his clipped tone making it apparent that he was not in the mood to discuss it. He hurried up the stairs into his office, hoping by that the time he reemerged his pants would have completely dried.

Unfortunately, luck was not on his side. JJ entered the office a mere five minutes after he had sat down. "Sir," she said, "We have a case in Oklahoma. It's urgent."

He sighed. "Get everyone in the conference room," he muttered.

Hotch was the first one to sit down; JJ came in next, then Prentiss and Morgan entered, with Rossi not far behind. Hotch peered out into the bullpen.

"Where is Reid?" he asked, a slightly nostalgic feeling of alarm rising in his chest.

"I just talked to him," Morgan said, "He's running late. He didn't want anyone to worry." Morgan smirked.

"Well, we'll start without him. We can fill him in on the plane," Hotch said, although for some reason he still felt anxious.

JJ nodded. "The Jewles family," she began, "Mark Jewles, Nancy Jewles, and three children; Jordan, Evan, and Kyle. The parents and two of the boys were found dead this morning; each with a .22 caliber gunshot wound to the head. Kyle Jewles is currently missing."

"The neighbors see anything?" Morgan asked.

"They lived in the middle of the woods; the nearest neighbors were a mile and a half away. They were found by Nancy Jewles' sister, who came by to drive the boys to school."

They all turned around as they heard the door creak open; Reid froze when everyone turned to look at him, as if he had been hoping to sneak in without being caught.

"Sorry, I overslept," Reid said hurriedly; his hair and clothes were disheveled, his tie hanging askew. His eyes, however, were bright and excited; not as if he had just woken up, but as if he had been awake for hours.

"Sit down, we'll talk later," Hotch said. Reid nodded hurriedly and sat down beside Morgan.

After JJ had finished debriefing everyone, they hurried onto the jet and were in the air twenty minutes later. After they had finished discussing the case, Hotch walked over to where Reid was sitting; he was writing in some notebook, and Hotch assumed he was working on the profile.

"Hey," Hotch said, sliding in across from him; the notebook was slammed shut, and Reid met his gaze eagerly—with eyes a little bit too intense for his liking. Hotch had been planning to reprimand Reid for his lateness; instead, he asked, "How much caffeine have you had today?"

Reid let out a long, uneasy laugh. "A fair amount," he admitted, his eyes shifting nervously.

A faint thought crept into the back of Hotch's mind—a suspicion about his young colleague that would slip into his consciousness from time to time. For the past few months—ever since Reid had returned to the job—he had been unable to find anything to ratify it, yet there was nothing to refute it, either. Like always, Hotch violently dismissed the notion, forcing it to the back of his brain. He decided simply that he had been working at this job far too long—his mind had been warped by it, changed irrevocably so that he didn't trust anyone anymore.

"Hotch?" Reid prompted.

Hotch blinked. "Hmm?"

"You looked worried," Reid said, "That's all."

Hotch shook himself. "I am worried," he said, "We have a missing nine-year-old boy."

"Well, yes," Reid said hurriedly, "Of course."

There was a brief, strained silence before Hotch excused himself, making his way towards the bathroom simply for something to do.

You're losing it, Hotch, he thought to himself, Get it together. He splashed cold water on his face and returned to his seat.

They were on the jet again later that night. The case, had not ended successfully, but it had ended abruptly; an hour after they had arrived at the police station, the fifty-eight year old unsub had turned himself in, crying hysterically, insisting, "Frank Sinatra made me do it!" They had found Kyle Jewles' body in the man's basement, his head bashed in; his body covered with a blanket.

All in all, Hotch decided, it had been a very bad day. To make matters worse, Morgan and JJ had greedily taken up both of the available couches; and Rossi and Prentiss were sitting at one of the tables, which meant that the only seat left for Hotch was opposite Spencer Reid.

He sat down with a sigh. Reid wasn't reading, like he normally was; he was staring out the window, his foot bouncing up and down anxiously. Hotch took out some paperwork and put his head down, hoping that he could forget about the younger agent.

Reid didn't take the hint. "Rough day, huh?" he commented, a half smile forming on his face. Hotch nodded, disinterested.

Reid drummed his fingers on the table. "How long until we land?" he asked suddenly.

Hotch sighed, glancing up. "I don't know, Reid. Probably the same amount of time it took on the way here."

Reid shook his heads. "No, it will take longer. Last time it took three hours and twenty-one minutes. But if you factor in turbulence due to wind speeds as high as sixty miles per hour, as well as night flying conditions, I would estimate that it will take about four hours and six minutes for us to fly back. Approximately." He folded his hands on the table.

Hotch stared at him. "Well if you know all that, then why the hell did you ask me?" he demanded, irritated.

Reid looked offended. "I was trying to be conversational," he said, "Also, I was hoping for a second opinion."

Hotch sighed. "Why is it so important to you, anyways?"

Reid shrugged. "Well, I just want to get back." His foot accelerated it's bouncing.

Hotch raised his eyebrows. "We've been gone for less than a day. What are you in such a hurry to get back to?"

Reid didn't say anything. "I just want to get back," he repeated stubbornly, turning again towards the window. Hotch took that as the end of their conversation and returned to his paperwork.

Hotch dismissed everybody early; it was only five o'clock, but he figured that his team needed a break. Therefore, it was only himself; and, typically, Reid, who stayed behind. Hotch remained in his office until ten o'clock; he had run out of paperwork to do, but was desperate to avoid even the smallest confrontation with his young coworker; for reasons that he either couldn't or simply didn't want to explain. Finally, Reid turned out the light at his desk and exited the building. Hotch waited several minutes and then followed; he wanted to get home to see Jack.

Hotch was irritated beyond belief to find Reid still in the parking lot; his and Reid's cars being one of the few cars remaining in the lot.

That's strange, he remarked to himself, he usually takes the subway. Hotch waited until Reid had gotten in his car and was driving away before he started towards his own car; he gave his coworker a half-hearted wave as he drove away, trying desperately to dispel the feelings of anxiety that the young man was apparently causing. They were inexplicable; causeless, he thought to himself. And yet, they were there.

Hotch's eyes followed Reid's car out of the parking lot; he wasn't even sure if he had even seen the car before. Hell, he hadn't even known that Reid had a car. He slid into his own driver's seat just as Reid turned out of the parking lot; that was when he realized it.

Reid was going the wrong way.

Hotch frowned, repeating the map of the city in his head. Yep, there was no doubt about it; that was not the way to Reid's apartment. Where was he going at ten o'clock at night?

Hotch made the decision before he was consciously aware of it; he turned on his engine, turned off his headlights, and silently peeled out of the parking lot behind Reid.

Just to prove yourself wrong, Hotch, he muttered. Just to prove that everything is fine. Just so that you can go home and sleep.

Hotch gritted his teeth, anxiety and anticipation pooling up inside his veins. He wasn't going to ignore this anymore. He knew that his suspicions were paranoid, unwarranted; ridiculous.

And yet, he followed.

*And so the plot thickens (whatever the hell that means.) Thank-you for reading, I hope you are enjoying it so far! Leave a review if you're nice! ; )*