Disclaimer: Still don't own them. Apparently Santa doesn't exist. I did ask him for the BAU... or maybe it was because I was not on the nice list.

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Chapter 4:

Help came sooner than he thought it would. After an exhausting night, woken up time and again by Reid's nightmares and comforting him, worried beyond belief, he dragged himself to the BAU in the morning. He entered, whispering "Good morning, Babycakes."

"I'll show you a good morning, hot stuff."

"Any new cases?"

The young lady shook her colorful head. "Nope, seems like all serial killers have taken a vacation. Seems like good days for us."

Morgan walked to his desk while she spoke, slumping down over his seat. "Yes, and all the paperwork is done too. I need something to do or I'll go crazy."

Garcia's smile turned evil and she slammed a yellow folder suddenly on his desk. "Hunk of chocolate love, you forgot to do your paperwork for the case you finished last month. Albert Wills, remember? The creepy guy killing the atheletes?"

Morgan groaned at just the thought of more paperwork, wondering if he could bribe Garcia or his pretty boy to take this on. Reaching for the files, he flipped open the first page... and froze. The pictures of the victims were staring up at him, and right on the top was Oliver Maxmillan, the african-american, built almost like Morgan, hair closely cropped to the scalp. And then it came racing back to him.

They were rushing to save Maxmillan after figuring out that Wills was targeting him. Reid had been left behind in the BAU earlier that morning, working on a geographical profile. He had figured out that Wills was going after Maxmillan and had immediately contacted Hotch. The BAU team members, however, were quite far from the location, and it had taken some time for them to reach there. The police were excruciatingly slow and had reached there only after the BAU, despite being informed of the situation earlier. Morgan, Hotch, Emily and JJ had rushed into the house, only to find Reid hunched over the dead man, a look of confusion and fear on his face. They had caught Wills on his way to his apartment.

Apparently, his young genius had wanted to be with them while they nailed the unsub, and had driven to the house in an SUV. Hearing a gun shot in the house, Reid had rushed in, only to find Maxmillan dead on the kitchen floor, blood oozing out of a head-shot.

Suddenly, it all came through. Morgan looked at the photos now, cursing himself for being so blind. Maxmillan was almost Morgan's clone. It must have been excruciatingly scary for Reid to find who he must have thought was Morgan facedown on the kitchen floor. He had quickly regained his composure when he figured out that it was not Morgan (the BAU had a queer sense of timing, Morgan had just rushed into the house at that minute), but those moments were coming back to haunt Reid in his dreams.

Atleast, that was what Morgan thought. He didn't know if it was the case, but he had a strong instinct that this was it. It would explain the shadowing, the fear of abandonment and the nightmares. He thought back to last night, wondering if he had done the right thing in promising Reid that he would never leave. You could never promise that, not with this job.

And then Morgan realised his mistake. He had just let Reid sleep in, to make up for the lack of sleep he had in the past few days. He had left a note on the pillow saying that he would meet him later, and that he loved him. Now Reid would wake up to an empty house... and it wasn't the best scenario to take place now.

Morgan grabbed his coat, said goodbye to a very confused Garcia and ran to his car.

Reid entered the house carefully, the gun held in front of him like a shield.

"FBI. Mr. Maxmillon?"

There was no answer. He moved forward, his eyes flitting about for any signs of movement in the house. Everything seemed deathly still. "?"

Rounding a corner, he walked into the kitchen... and stumbled on something. His eyes opened wide in terror. A man, on the floor, blood spreading around his head in a pool.

"Morgan!"

"Morgan!"

Reid shot out of bed, panting. He was breathing hard, trying to wipe away those wisps of sleep from the recesses of his mind. It was just a dream, he told himself, just a dream.

He opened his eyes.

New panic overtook him. Morgan was not there, not by his side.

"MORGAN!"