I want to express my gratitude to everyone who left reviews, added me, or sent me messages. The responses, constructive criticisms, and insights I've been fortunate enough to receive have, by far, exceeded any expectations I had when I decided to write a CM fanfic. Thank you-everything is appreciated.

This next chapter is like the previous ones-if I didn't post it soon, it would become something I didn't recognize or necessarily want...I know this may sound like a closing chapter, but, trust me, it's definitely not. That being said, happy reading! :)

"And all the dark, and all the lies, were all the empty things disguised as me."-Goo Goo Dolls "Sympathy"

After a long day, the DNA results led them to their suspect, and although no one was particularly happy with not figuring out a profile, it wasn't long before the team bordered the jet bound for Virginia and the FBI headquarters. Morgan was unable to sleep the whole flight home, but he noted Reid had slept so soundly he had to fight the urge to check his pulse. When Hotch noticed too, he met Morgan's eyes and Morgan mouthed the word "later." Shoving his headphones in his ears, he smiled when his iPod randomly chose The Temptations.

The last time Reid slept as well as he had without the aid of some drug or illicit substance was before the whole Georgia fiasco. As the engines hummed underneath him and the sky cast a multicolored sunset that ushered in a dark night, Reid did not dream, have nightmares, or even so much as move. His body was exhausted, and it took the chance to grab a few hours of uninterrupted slumber. When he was shaken by Morgan as the plane began its descent, he felt as though years had left him.

The night air was refreshingly cold when the team exited the jet, and Reid watched as everyone murmured goodbyes and shuffled to their cars with sleep in their eyes and on their minds. He had debated asking someone for a ride home, but knew that wasn't possible when he felt Morgan's presence beside him.

"I'm doing it now" he explained without having to ask what Morgan wanted. With a firm clap of his hand to Reid's shoulder, Morgan walked away from Reid so he wouldn't notice how he blinked away the tears that had surged to the forefront of his lenses.

"Drive safe everyone," Hotch called to his team in the parking lot of the BAU. Tired eyes met his equally exhausted ones. Hotch watched Morgan's quick steps to his vehicle, JJ's sudden drop into her driver's seat, Prentiss get to her car rather quickly only to fiddle with the radio dial, and Gideon's screeching exit around the bend leading to the road. Hotch was not surprised to find that when he turned to go to his own car, he saw Reid a few feet away, staring into his surroundings as if he was not sure what the sky, pavement, and his place between them meant. Hotch knew what was going to happen, and he observed Reid's demeanor as he walked closer to him. He fidgeted with his hands, shoved them into his pockets, and took them out, only to repeat the process a few seconds later.

Hotch did not speak when he reached the younger man's side. It seemed as though no words needed to be said, as both men were aware that something was on the cusp of spilling over around them. Uncomfortable, Reid turned his attention upwards and was startled that he had not noticed the brilliance of the starry night sky before this moment.

"There were stars that night, you know?" He spoke without looking at Hotch, who remained quiet, knowing there was more. "In Georgia with Tobias. There were stars." It was the first time Reid had addressed the case with Hotch, and he saw the change that overcame Reid. He refused eye contact, preferring to keep his neck angled towards the blackened night overhead. In the dim light of the moon, Reid looked pale, thin, and sick. So sick that Hotch felt guilt rise in him. You know the signs, he thought.

"You know, Reid…" Reid looked at Hotch when he spoke, and Hotch was startled by Reid's eyes. At first, they were as they always had been-soft and inviting, but then something shifted aside and Hotch saw for the first time the pain etched along the hazel circle. In his years profiling, Hotch knew that eyes often spoke more truthfully than words. A look to the right meant dishonesty. Nervous shifting meant deception, guilt, or even fear. He had learned these traits through interrogations and watching and studying human behavior, yet he had missed the subtle cues from one of his own for months. Now, he and Reid stood in an abandoned parking lot under an expansive mass of fragmented light.

"I think I failed you." Reid's eyebrows raised, but he said nothing, choosing to stare at the ground. "We all failed you, actually."

"Morgan said that too." Reid mumbled, shuffling his shoes against loose gravel. Good job, Morgan Hotch thought.

"Did you know that stars are just explosions of gas and helium?" Reid changed the subject, sounding less interested than he normally would when rattling off a statistic. Hotch nodded. He had known.

"Is that how you feel?" Reid's face contorted into confusion. "Like you're about to lose everything? You know, explode so to speak?" The grating of the tiny pebbles sounded harsh as they scraped against the pavement and the bottoms of Reid's sneakers. Miles away, the faint blare of a car horn resounded through the night.

"Sometimes."

"You have every right to be angry with me, with us, Reid." Reid stopped shuffling his feet, but did not look at Hotch. "We failed you as a team, and I failed you as your superior." Hotch didn't want to, but he let his mind wander to what Reid had looked like, tied to the chair, hurt, and crying. How he could not have seen the aftermath was beyond him, but it felt incredibly stupid now.

"I am angry." Reid admitted, relaxing his shoulders and peering at Hotch. He needs to know that what he's feeling is acceptable, Hotch realized, hating that he was profiling one of his own.

"Sometimes it's at you or with the team, but I'm really angrier with myself."

"It's normal to-"

"Not for me." Reid silenced Hotch before he could finish, and the two stayed that way for a few minutes. Hotch knew the conversation was edging closer to what needed to come, but he wanted it to be on Reid's terms. It needed to be that way for Reid's sake.

"I hate the dark," Reid said suddenly, turning his attention back upwards. "It's like anything can happen…" Reid felt a thin line of sweat trickle down the back of his neck. His hangover was beginning to turn into withdrawals. From the way Hotch was surveying his shaking frame, he could tell he knew.

"A lot of things have happened since…" Reid swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Since Tobias." He knew everyone else called it the Hankel case, but he felt detached from formalities. What happened to him had been deeply personal, and he needed to keep it that way. It felt as though he had no other choice.

"What types of things?" Reid parted his lips. In the moonlight, Hotch saw the top crack with dryness. He waited for Reid to speak, but he wasn't surprised when the boy didn't. Instead, he closed them. He's not ready yet, Hotch realized. He feels unsafe. Hotch could sense the fear shooting off Reid's body.

"How are you feeling?" Hotch asked. Reid was shaking so badly that Hotch had to fight the urge to reach out and place a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Sick, and…" Reid searched his mind for words. "Exhausted I guess."

"You slept well on the plane." Hotch commented, trying to play dumb. Reid didn't take the bait.

"That's not what I mean."

"You mean mentally?" Hotch was beginning to force the conversation where it needed to go, and Reid didn't understand why this seemed so much harder than talking to Morgan. You're not drunk, his brain reminded him.

"I…" Reid shook his head from side to side, as if there was a war going on between his words and his brain and the latter was winning. Hotch pretended not to see when Reid swiped at his face with his palm. Above them, he noted how the millions of stars were an audience, peering down on the scene in the empty lot. When Hotch went to glance at Reid again to detect any subtle cues, he suddenly stopped himself. Give him a chance to be honest, He rationalized. You know Reid. Just give him some time. Hotch took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking the truth.

"Reid, you and I both know that we have to talk about a few things." Reid bit his bottom lip. "Now, I can sit her attempting to profile you, which you know I've been doing. Or, you can talk and let me help you." To Hotch, it didn't feel right to profile Reid. Something about it felt deeply intrusive, and he realized that he had already been silent enough. Reid's smart, he thought. He knows I don't want to treat him like some suspect or criminal.

Although Reid wasn't excited by the prospect of revealing his secrets to Hotch, he felt better knowing that Hotch wouldn't profile him. He could tell he had been, but Reid also knew he wasn't really giving him any other choice. A few times, he knew he had been avoiding what really needed to be said, but it was as though he was treading water, watching the shore become a speck of land as the waves pushed him further and further away from everything. Reid remained silent. Just begin anywhere, his mind encouraged.

"I'm anxious all the time. I can't sleep. I can't stop seeing him, Tobias, everywhere." That's a start, Hotch thought.

"What happens when you're anxious, have a nightmare, or see Tobias?" He used Hankel's first name. If this was personal for Reid, then he'd try to show him he understood, however subtle. Reid shook so much that the dirt under his shoes shifted.

"I can't deal with it." This admittance, spoken in a voice just above a whisper, seemed too much for the young agent. Reid felt his brain fight with his legs, which wanted to bolt, and he stumbled forward. Hotch, fearing he'd fall, caught Reid by the shoulders, helping him regain his balance. Reid ignored the wetness on his face and the fact that Hotch was still holding onto his shoulders.

"How, Reid?" Underneath his hands, Reid's body stiffened. He looked straight ahead at the fields surrounding the lot.

"Tobias injected me with Dilaudid. It's a narcotic." Hotch saw a glimpse of the old Reid, as he faced him, explaining a fact that he somehow knew. His head turned back to the field. "I took two bottles off his body…" Hotch's mind recalled Reid limping back and kneeling down next to Hankel. He figured the boy was saying goodbye, not stealing drugs.

"I didn't use them, though."

"But you used others?" Reid felt the moment was here and he nodded yes. Hotch let out a sigh that made Reid jump. The younger agent registered that Hotch's hands were by his sides again.

"What, Reid? I need to know." Reid nodded again and his stomach twisted. He felt hot in the chilly night air.

"More narcotics," he cleared his dry throat. "Vicodin, Percocet, Valium, you know, the basics." He eyed Hotch with a sideways glance and a small smile. He wasn't surprised when Hotch didn't return the smile.

"And when that stopped working?" Hotch met his eyes with hard ones. He believed what he was hearing, however badly he didn't want to, and he needed to be the strong one right now.

"Alcohol. Pot sometimes too, but mostly narcotics." Reid had only smoked pot once with the college neighbor because it had made him too paranoid.

"How much?"

"Does it matter?"

"You know it does." Hotch hated the firmness of his voice and the way Reid avoided eye contact, but he knew he needed to remain professional. At least Reid was still talking to him.

"At first, it wasn't too much. Just to sleep…" Reid drifted off, turning his head away from his boss. Hotch placed his hand on Reid's arm to draw him back into the conversation.

"And now?" Reid looked at his feet again. He's ashamed, Hotch thought.

"Every day. A few times a day. I just wanted to feel better. I wanted to forget, you know?" Hotch did know, but he didn't answer. "And then, I couldn't stop…" Reid admitted, pawing at his face again. Gideon's print out came to Hotch's mind, and he surveyed Reid's shaking body with more interest before speaking.

"You're addicted, Reid." At the word "addicted," Hotch saw Reid's body tense. He doesn't want to believe this, Hotch realized. He's in denial. Hotch found that he felt the same.

"If that's what you want to call it." Reid scuffed at the ground again as he mumbled a response to the older agent.

"What happens when you don't take the narcotics?" Hotch knew the answer, but he understood Reid needed to hear it aloud to realize how powerless he had become.

"I have withdrawals." Hotch saw Reid's arms instinctively wrap around his stomach, as if by saying he had withdrawals, he could now show it. Based from the shaking and sweating, Hotch could tell Reid wasn't well.

"Is that why you weren't feeling well these past few days?" Reid nodded.

"It's also part of the reason I yelled at you in the cemetery." Hotch met Reid's eyes and recognized the insinuated apology.

"Are you withdrawing right now?" Reid nodded, his face turning whiter in the dim light. You're that obvious, his brain taunted.

"How long?" Reid did a quick estimate in his head before answering.

"A little before we landed." He felt his stomach twinge as the plane plummeted downwards and knew that it wasn't just because of the approaching ground and heavier altitudes. To Reid's bewilderment, Hotch nodded and walked to the trunk of his car. Reid watched him grab his overnight bag, shuffle through one of the side pockets, and slam the trunk shut before returning to his side.

"Take these." It was Hotch now who didn't make eye contact as he shoved a small orange container in Reid's hands. The familiar color of the plastic and the clanking from inside told Reid it was a prescription of some sorts.

"These are yours…" Reid trailed off, reading the name of the narcotic on the side. Hotch shrugged.

"I never really take them. They're for my shoulder." He explained. Judging from the weight of the container, Reid figured the bottle had never even been opened.

"Why are you giving me these?" Reid bit his bottom lip.

"You're going to feel a lot worse really quickly." Even as he said it, Reid could feel his temperature rise. Reid did not feel that this situation was real. Your boss is giving you drugs, his brain registered. He's right, though. You'll be pretty sick without them. Although Reid knew he was an addict on both a physical and mental level, standing in the dimly lit BAU parking lot next to Hotch, who had just supplied him with narcotics, made him realize that this issue that he had been running from and simultaneously chasing after was more dire than he had originally assumed.

"I can't take this whole bottle because-." Reid admitted.

"You'll take them all?" Hotch finished Reid's sentence for him, meeting Reid's eyes that answered before he did. As Reid handed him the bottle, Hotch tried to ignore his disbelief. It was full, meaning there were about 30 pills inside. He handed Reid ten.

"For tonight and for your drive tomorrow." Reid closed his palm around the white ovals after shoving three in his mouth and swallowing them effortlessly. Hotch tried to hide his surprise again. Exactly how blind had he been?

"My apartment-"

"I'll make all the arrangements." A thin streak of dawn began to rise at the edge of the field. The two men stood quietly for a while, watching the day begin to light the sky.

"I don't know how…what…" Reid spoke first, letting his words end, feeling the drug-induced bliss surging through his veins. Why are you so bad at this? He wondered.

"I'm really sor-" He tried again, but was interrupted by Hotch again.

"You don't have to, Reid." Reid's posture eased with the assertion he would not have to find words to apologize to Hotch. He studied the colors of the new day with a detached interest and wondered when, or if, he'd ever rejoin the world and value anything beautiful or natural again. Right now, everything around him felt hazy, disjointed, and exhausting. Reid just wanted to sleep and, he realized, he wouldn't mind not waking up either. This isn't you, he rationalized. You're an addict, and it's thinking for you now. It has been for a while. He felt more tears and stopped wiping them away. Something told him that in the upcoming months, he'd be crying a lot.

The older agent surveyed the young man in front of him and somewhere in the back of his mind, he recalled how he had once introduced Reid as "the expert in, well, everything." Now, he realized, it had been partially right. Reid was an expert on many things simply because he knew many things. He was the team's walking, talking computer. If they were on a case and needed statistic, it was Reid they turned to for an answer. If the team needed help with a code of a geographical profile, it was Reid they assigned it to, and, Hotch knew that the team, and he himself, valued Reid's intelligence. It was an asset, but, now, watching the young man in front of him whose face was damp and body shaking, he felt a certain twinge of responsibility. He was young, very young, in the grand scheme of things both for the FBI and for the world itself. This isn't your fault, his brain told him, although he felt otherwise. Hotch bit his lip before he spoke.

"Reid, I'm so sor-"

"You don't have to apologize either," he told the older agent, meeting his eyes. Hotch gave him a small smile.

"Come on, Spencer. I'll drive you home." Reid didn't bother to wonder why, for the first time ever, Hotch had used his first name; instead, he followed him to the car. No more words were exchanged, but neither agent seemed to mind as they rolled down the windows, allowing the cool air and early morning deew to seep into their pores, refreshing their skin and minds with its chill. In a far off horizon, a canvas of pinks and yellows accented the edge of the world. Light, muddled with heavy eyelids of night, began to bring the road ahead into a variety of shapes and forms. And around the two men, the night ended and the new day began.