A/N: I am so sorry for the wait. My computer crashed when a tree fell on the power lines, and we all have experienced that I'm sure. Gawd. That and I'm mad at my mom, cause she's not even saying anything to support me while I try to stop my SI addiction. Well, blah to her! ;)

Day Three Dear Journal, I feel like I just spilled anthrax into myself. My stomach hurts from dry heaving all day, and it doesn't help that I'm shaking uncontrolably, but I guess that's what I get for getting into this mess. The rest of the team called, they won't be able to make it here today, because of a case. However, they did promise to call and check up on me a lot. I wish they wouldn't worry. I mean, it's not like I'm going to give up right here, right now. No, I can't do that. I have my family who'd be so disappointed in me, I'd lose my job, and it would only prove to the fact that I'm nothing, to which my father had said to me numerous times before he left. 'You're weak', he'd say to my Mother and I. I didn't believe it, but now I'm starting to doubt my strength. The team did, however, come over this morning before they left, and I got a surprising result from Hotch when we spoke alone.

Flashback:

The team stopped at Reid's apartment before they headed off. Reid couldn't help but notice the team's, minus Gideon, smiling faces, though they were weak. He knew Gideon was still disappointed that he'd almost slipped, but he knew, from talk of other recovering addicts, he would slip a few times before kicking the addiction completely, but he just couldn't admit that to the rather optimistic members of his family. He just had that feeling, that hunch, that Gideon knew that he would slip before he was able to quit completely, and he so didn't want to prove that theory right, so, he thought, he'd have to make sure either they didn't know, or didn't use it once more ever.

After a few minutes of normal chatting, without any angst showing a big speedbump in their family, Hotch decided it was time he'd tell Reid what he'd been thinking. So, Hotch stood and told Reid to meet him in the kitchen, breaking the conversation, and replacing the silence with sympathetic looks, almost as if it were bringing back the reality of the situation they were all in. Once Reid stepped into the kitchen, he allowed the worry overtake him, his thoughts swarming his mind unable to be swatted away, not realizing he'd been making things up, tempting his mind to think of what would stop his thoughts. The wonderful high it gave him, the euphoria, with every touch he could feel, or not feel. What it felt like for the drugs to run through his vains, cooling only his blood, and the high making him hot and start to sweat. The beautif... 'Hey! C'mon, Hotch is talking to you. Quit drooling over it!' Reid thought as he brought himself into the painful reality that was his life.

"What Hotch? I'm sorry, just... don't really feel well, yanno." Reid asked. Hotch knew what he meant by 'not feeling well' but just passed it off as if it was a cold.

"I said I've been thinking..."

"Know how that can be." Reid smiled. Hotch smiled back slightly.

"Well, I think that if you think you're ready, in a few days, you could come back, on maximum supervision." Reid didn't know how to take the words. Whether to be happy Hotch was letting him off the hook so easily, or blissfully pissed that he'd thought Reid, an adult, would need constant supervision as if he was a child that wouldn't stop breaking things. Since he was still withdrawing from the blissful drug, the anger took over, and he wasn't able to stop it before it escaped his mouth.

"I should just stay home then. Why go back to work if I have one of you constantly babysitting me like I'm some sort of rabbid animal. I'm tired of being treated like a child. Just because I'm addicted to drugs does not mean I'm incapable of caring for myself and..." Hotch cut him off.

"I know you can care for yourself. But that's the deal. It's you either come to work in a few days with Gideon or I watching you over the next month or two, or don't come back until the two months are up. It's your choice, and whatever happens, I hope you don't choose the third, you're smart, and you know what I'm talking about." Hotch said softly.

"No, I don't understand. I apparently can't look after myself any more than a child would, so why would I understand what you're saying." Reid said in a soft, innocent, child-like tone.

"It's your choice, Reid." Hotch said, obviously ignoring Reid's attempt to annoy the older profiler, but hadn't succeded.

They both went back out into the room with the rest of the team, and Reid tried with effort to converse normally to his family, but his mind was on the deal that Hotch proposed, which was certainly not something he wanted to think about at the moment. Almost too soon, they left, knowing they had a job to do, and leaving Reid to himself and his mind that would eventually cause him to fall asleep while a needle by his side, a torniquet still hanging onto his arm, and a vial half empty next to the needle, but Reid didnt' want to think about that. He knew he'd be able to last seven more days. Hopefully.

Dear Journal, seven more days, and I'll be away from this. Goodbye. I don't know if I'll want to write anymore. Wish me luck.

TBC

A/N: I was not pleased with this chapter. It seems too much of a filler. I'm just really depressed (when am I not, though?) and I really want to get to Relief, since it's just writing down what I think, so I don't know about this... review?