AN: Hello everybody! Thank you for sticking with me to the very end: this long day has drawn to a close. I hope you enjoyed, and will continue to enjoy at least for the rest of this chapter!, my story :) And woop - sorry that the chapters seemed to get shorter and shorter as the end approached! Eeck! xD Feel free to let me know what you think of the story overall or just the ending: whether you think it makes sense or if you would've liked to see the characters go down a different path - I'd love to hear your thoughts ^^

Disclaimer: Despite multiple wishing-upon-a-star's, I still don't own Criminal Minds. Phooey.

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Jason Gideon, was, in fact, relaxing in his office, as Hotch had predicted. At the moment, Jason had his head in his hands, a position unconsciously similar to that of his friend's. On the sturdy, oak desk in front of him, a lined journal full of photos was open to the most recent page, adorned with the picture of a lovely young woman who had fallen prey to the team's latest sadistic serial killer. Nearby, an old-fashioned chess set was still set up in the last game he and Reid had played - he had re-enacted the chess battle at least once a day since the agent's death.

Gideon knew, deep down, that the young prodigy's death was not entirely his fault... But the fact that he had played an active role in pissing off Reid's captor over rode that fact and drowned him in guilt. At the time, he hadn't even been able to stay in the same room as the computer screens, marred with his failure to save the young man. As immature as it may have seemed, he just couldn't bring himself to remain in the same room as his team, whose blame (real and imagined) he could practically see rolling off them.

Like he did nearly every night, he flipped the notebook back a few pages to a page pasted with the photo of a nerdy, young man, his longish hair flopping into his eyes as he mischievously looked up from a hand of cards. Gideon sighed and let himself be carried away by the memories of the young man who had understood him the best. He recalled innumerable chess games, brilliant discoveries, plane-ride card games, naive moments, and, lastly, a tragic death.

Oddly, this time, he could feel himself rebelling against the urge to dwell upon the consuming grief and guilt... Ever since the last case, when he had successfully saved the last victim of a mentally disturbed killer, he had felt something inside him shift, almost like the last obstacle being passed. Now, as he remembered Reid's untimely death, he wasn't completely swallowed by the yawning maw of grief; he felt almost placid, accepting, serene. Gideon rested in the feeling for a moment: he was aware that he had not completely overcome his grief, but there was peace in knowing that he had gotten that much closer after months of pain.

Jason could tell that it was now inky dark outside, or as inky as it gets with the city's light pollution, and he stood up, grabbing his jacket in the process. His fingers lingered over the photo of the genius, before closing the notebook with a musty finality. Gideon opened his door and stepped out into the artificially lit hallway, knowing that he had one last task to accomplish before going home for the night...

As he thought, his workaholic boss was still in his office. Gideon softly closed the door behind him and sat in one of the comfortable chairs in front of his superior's desk. Hotch glanced at him and wordlessly comprehended the reason for his visit, pulling a packet of files out from a polished drawer in his desk. Silently, he handed Jason the top half of the files. Gideon contemplatively read the title, APPLICANTS FOR THE BAU, before flipping open the folder and reviewing the documents inside. The team had worked down a man long enough.