College Countdown: Here. Posting this story in my dorm. Jeez. I feel old.

MISTAKES

A friendship that can cease has never been real.

-St. Jerome

As soon as Morgan's name appeared on Hotch's phone, the elder agent knew what would be asked of him. Since he ordered Reid to take a paid vacation, Morgan had called almost every day in an attempt to change his mind. Hotch wanted Reid to return, frankly he missed the young genius, however Hotch knew that Reid was unwell.

So he answered the phone, intending to once again argue with Morgan. Instead, the voice that spoke was not Morgan's, and for the first moment in a long time, he felt genuinely guilty. "Sir."

Sir. Sir. Sir. Again, again, and again; Hotch's mind focused on those words, words that had never come out of Reid's mouth before, words that had ben uttered with abhorrence, vehemently spoken, amalgamated with wretched grief.

"R-Reid?" Hotchner inwardly cursed himself, knowing that the waver in his voice certainly portrayed him as culpable. He cleared his voice (silently) and asserted his alpha male dominance in a stern, but approaching, voice. "Reid."

"I'm tired." Something in Hotch broke, he wasn't sure what, "Why am I being punished for something I've recovered from?"

Hotch couldn't particularly answer that, partly because Reid's argument was correct, but partly because Reid's 'paid vacation' was due to Hotch's intuition instead of actual evidence. "Are you?"

"Yes." Hotch picked up on the younger's annoyance. "For the love of-What do you want me to say to convince you I'm clean?"

Again, Hotch was rendered speechless. And once again, he felt guilt swell in his stomach and travel up to his chest; throbbing with each breath he took. "Trust me, we just want to help you." Even that argument sounded pathetic to Hotch.

"And an ultimatum was supposed to do what? Force me to align my values and characteristics with precedents you've set?"

"I didn't give you an ultimatum." Hotch cursed inwardly again, why did he not think before he spoke. Surprisingly, a sardonic remark lacked following his hypocritical statement. Instead, the younger drew a quick breath, whispering, "You made me choose between my home and myself."

He heard scuffling next and assumed Morgan had unsuccessfully made a grab for the phone. Morgan could see what Hotch could not, the drops of salt infused tears sliding off of Reid's face. He was so tired, so very, very, tired. Tired of lying, tired of pretending to function normally, tired of failing.

He was just tired.

"I died. I was dead and Tobias brought me back. I see it every night; even if he's dead and I'm alive, I see it. Even if I had a particularly well case, even if I don't sleep, I see it. He's dead and I know this, but he's so much very alive, because I see him."

"You never told us…" Hotch was quiet, waiting for Reid to continue, and guiltily waiting for a submission of guilt, something to prove his hypothesis correct. "I'm running on empty."

"You're priorities are in order now. It helped," Reid laughed; the hollow sound crushed Hotch' soul. "Yeah, sure. As helpful as DMV workers."

Hotch sighed, it seemed Reid's barbed sarcasm had increased in its viciousness. Against his better judgment, Hotch relented. "Alright. I won't press into the matter anymore." Before Reid could interject, Hotch added another ultimatum, "BUT-"

"No."

The answer certainly didn't surprise him, "I wasn't asking." Reid didn't hesitate, "I wasn't questioning. No."

"7 o'clock tomorrow. If you attend, I'll see you Monday morning."

Reid sounded almost hysterical, eventually agreeing. "...I-I can't, I won't trust you anymore, Hotch."

"I'm still your superior, Reid."

"Apologies, Sir."

Hotch's answer to Reid was the dial tone.