Hey, everyone! Sorry for the delay in updating; I've kind of been having a week of Doctor Who obsession with the 50th anniversary and all. Thank you all SO much for each and every review, favourite, and follow of the story. They seriously mean so much to me, and really help me when I'm trying to figure out a chapter. So, yeah, I think that this chapter would have to be my favourite so far, so, hopefully, you all enjoy it.

The title of this story comes from the fantastic Graysonation. Go check out her brilliant stories!

Disclaimer- I don't own Criminal Minds; I just like to mess with the characters.

Reviews aren't required, just appreciated and adored.

Enjoy!

"Oh! Spencer, you forgot your change."

Reid let out a huge sigh of relief when he heard Rachael call after him, and let go of his wrist.

"Sorry," she said, and blushed a little when he turned around. "It looked like I scared you a little bit."

Reid tried to offer her a small smile, but he presumed that he'd failed at it. See, even a young girl who you barely know can see that you're scared to death. You have got to get yourself together. "I'm fine, Rachael. Thanks," the young man said as she handed him his previously forgotten change. "Have a nice day."

Reid swiftly turned after that, before the cashier could even utter a goodbye; he missed the worried frown that she had on her face as the next annoyed-looking customer approached the cash.

The jittery genius quickly exited the coffee shop, and walked out onto the sidewalk. He set a brisk pace, and started heading back toward work. His hands were shaking, and a bit of his coffee spilled onto his arm.

Reid did a silent curse, and ran a hand through his hair. He lifted the coffee up to his mouth, and swallowed the bitter liquid. Damn, forgot the sugar, he remembered.

The agent suddenly turned his head and looked behind him, only to find normal people behind him, nobody he knew, nobody who would try to come after him.

Dear God, he could not stop looking and glancing around. Why was it so hard for him to not turn his head anxiously, seeing if there was anybody after him? Probably because there is an escaped convict who is apparently after you again, judging from the letter he'd left for you when he broke into your apartment.

He bit his lip, and looked up. He'd gotten back to work in a couple of minutes, which had felt like a couple of ages.

Reid sighed and walked through the glass doors into the bullpen. He saw Morgan and Prentiss look up from their desks, with worried expressions. Why did they have to be so worried about him? He was not a kid! He could take care of himself perfectly fine. Yeah, right, that's why every time you try to sleep, you wake up crying from nightmares.

Reid bit his lip, and sat down at his desk, annoyed; he set the coffee cup down on the desk harder than he had to, and little waves of coffee spilled out over the edges of the cup, onto his desk.

He didn't know how much longer he could keep this whole charade up. The young man couldn't handle all of these emotions hitting him at once; they were really wearing him down. Reid was terrified, honestly. He didn't want to be, but he couldn't help it. But, that didn't mean that he would showcase his fear in front of his team, his family. This ordeal‒ of only three days, so far‒ was beginning to be too much to bear.

Reid drew himself away from his thoughts as Morgan stood next to his desk, a piece of paper towel in his hand. The older man began to clean up the bit of coffee that Reid had spilled, and looked down at his best friend.

"I can clean up my own mess, Morgan," Reid said, in the uncharacteristically annoyed tone of voice that he'd seemed to grow accustomed to these past couple of days. He hated it, treating his friends almost as if this was their faults. He didn't want to act like he was mad at them‒ he wasn't mad at them‒, but, he couldn't seem to help it, and get control of his emotions.

"It looked like you were thinking, man," Morgan replied, leaning against his colleague's desk. "Are you alright?"

Reid sighed. "You already know the answer to that question, Morgan."

"I'm worried, Reid. We all are. We're your family, and you need to open up more-"

Morgan was stopped mid-sentence by Reid. "And I'm already letting you stay with me Morgan; that's enough opening up for me. I really need to work now, if you wouldn't mind."

"Fine, Reid," Morgan sighed, running a hand over his head. "But, if you need to talk, you know where to find me," he finished, and walked away, heading back over to his desk.

Though Reid said he needed to work, nothing of the sort happened. At first, he'd tried to focus on the case files he had on his desk. He knew he could finish them quickly; being able to read twenty-thousand words a minute certainly helped with that.

But, after nearly an hour of trying to get through one file, he'd set them aside. Reid had gone over to the small kitchen three times, and had continuingly paced the bullpen floor, desperate for a distraction of any kind.

Then, with about two hours left before the team was able to go home, Hotch had virtually forced him to take the rest of the day off. Reid had protested, at first, but had eventually agreed, and left.

Now, after a long, nerve-wracking subway ride, Reid stood outside of his apartment door, fiddling with his keys, eventually getting the door unlocked.

The young genius yawned, his large hazel eyes closing for a moment. God, he really just needed to sleep.

Not even having the energy to look around his apartment, Reid set down his tan messenger bag, and took off his black converse high-tops, going straight toward the couch and laying down.

In a matter of moments, he was fast asleep.

…

All I could focus on was Nate walking toward me; Hotch's protests were a faint beat in the background.

"Why are you crying, Spencer? Why are you always crying?" Nate said as he got closer to me. "You need to stop acting like a baby." The words really hurt me, and I knew they were true, even though I couldn't help it. Nate stopped right in front of me, and bent down so that we were face to face. "You haven't seen anything yet."

Then, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.

…

Reid woke up gasping for breath, and immediately felt the tears that had been running down his cheeks. He stood up and walked to the bathroom.

God, Nate was right, Reid thought miserably and let out a cry of anguish. I am a baby.

He grabbed a facecloth and ran some water onto it, not waiting for it to warm. He scrubbed his mouth in an almost desperate manner, the nightmare still fresh in his mind.

After he deemed himself fit enough, Reid walked out of the bathroom and toward the kitchen; he needed some water.

The genius looked at the clock on his wall; 8:07pm, it read. Morgan would be back from work in a few minutes.

Reid turned toward the counter to get a glass out of the cupboard, and stopped short.

A letter was sitting on his kitchen counter, with his name right on the front of it.

"Reid" and review, please!