Prentiss slid her jacket off her shoulders as she stepped down the hospital corridor, hovering at the door when she got to Reid's room, staying on the other side of the glass for a moment. Gideon was sat back in his chair, and there was a book open in his lap, but he wasn't looking at it: he had his elbow rested on the arm of the chair, his thumb under his chin and one knuckle pressed loosely against his lower lip, looking at Reid over his reading glasses. He looked to be in deep thought, and Prentiss couldn't begin to imagine what it was he was thinking about.

Reid had been pensive the last few days, since Gideon had come back. She'd noticed it at dinner when they'd all gone out together especially – it was something he was struggling with, struggling to digest, even before all this, and yet for all he'd disappeared for two years, Gideon had been on a plane out to Reid almost as soon as Garcia had told him he was in the hospital.

Prentiss didn't know much about Gideon and Reid's relationship – she knew that it was more than friendship, and certainly more than the normal dynamic between mentor and mentee, but she'd thought when she'd first joined the BAU that it was something she'd learn more about once she'd been with them a while, and that had never come.

Reid didn't tell other people about Gideon, and Gideon didn't tell anybody anything.

Well, no, that wasn't true. He'd tell people things – he'd laugh, suddenly, he'd tell some story from ten years ago about someone he hadn't talked to in eight; he'd talk about things in the abstract; he'd say things quietly, softly, and for a moment, you'd think he was the sweetest, most caring man in the world, and then…

She saw Reid's lips move, although he remained laid back in bed and he wasn't looking at Gideon, but up at the ceiling tiles: … asked why I didn't move his books around.

What did you tell him?

Well, that I have an eidetic memory, so any ordering system used for books around me is irrelevant, once I know where they all are. And he acted… confused.

Confused?

Like he wanted me to argue with him.

Why would you argue with him over how he orders his books?

Reid turned his head to look at Gideon, who was smiling now, just slightly. You know, Reid said, looking offended, annoyed, even. Tell me why.

Prentiss is here.

Reid looked over, and even with the heavy bags under his eyes, the bandage around the stitches on the back of his head, around his arms, he looked good when he smiled. She smiled back, pulling back the door and closing it behind her, dropping her coat over the other chair as she leaned in to hug him.

"I thought Garcia was next," Gideon said.

"She was," Prentiss murmured, gesturing with her hand. "Asked me to swap with her."

"She already swapped with JJ," Gideon said.

"JJ?" Reid repeated, looking confused for a moment, and then he turned back to Prentiss. "You don't need a schedule," Reid said. "I'm okay."

"We want to spend time with our favourite boy genius," Prentiss said. "What, you don't want to see us?"

"You know that's not it," Reid murmured. "I'm just… I'm really tired."

"Well, that's okay," Prentiss said quietly. "You can sleep."

Reid was quiet, shifting slightly as he closed his eyes. "You think Elle will come visit?"

"Elle?" Prentiss repeated, but Gideon just shook his head.

"I can call her if you want, Spence."

"She hates phones," he mumbled. "And she never answers my letters…"

"We're gonna go get you a soda, kid," Gideon said, standing to his feet. "You want anything else?"

"Have I eaten lunch yet?"

"You hungry?"

"I…" Reid twisted his mouth, his brow furrowing in confusion, in thought. "Jason," he said, a little sharply. "I don't know."

"That's okay," Gideon said, still gentle, "you sit tight a sec."

He gestured for Prentiss to walk with him, and she stood to her feet, glancing back at Reid as she stepped after Gideon, sliding the door closed behind them. "Elle Greenaway?" she asked. "Has he even talked to her since she left the BAU?"

"He sends her a few letters a year," Gideon murmured. "She doesn't respond to them. I thought it was because of the cocktail of meds he's on and how much pain he's in, but his doctor came to talk with him a little before you came in. He's pretty severely concussed, and the pain just makes it worse."

"He forgot that JJ came to visit him this morning," Prentiss said quietly.

"He's trying to hide it, which is why I didn't realise, and his CT doesn't look that bad," Gideon muttered. "Not— not on purpose," he said, when Prentiss looked at him. "He's confused and he doesn't want to admit he keeps forgetting things, and he's good at hiding it.

"But we're not seeing him on his feet, so we didn't see any problems with his balance, and he was sensitive to the hospital lights before he got hit in the back of the head. We thought some of the symptoms were because he's not on proper pain meds."

"Does he know he's concussed?"

"Doctor told him – I've reminded him twice," Gideon muttered. He inhaled, his nostrils flaring, and then he let out a long sigh, rubbing the palm of his hand over the top of his head. "He'll be okay." She stood back as he put some coins in the soda machine, taking the can that came out and handing it to her. "I'm gonna give Hotch a call."

"I'll go sit with him," Prentiss said softly.

"And then I was in the basement," Reid said. She wouldn't have pushed him onto this specific topic – he'd gotten onto it himself, had started trying to explain how he got taken aside while Prentiss was still inside speaking with Dagher, but she could see the trouble he was having in remembering it.

"We don't have to talk about it right now," Prentiss said softly. "It's honestly better if you leave it until we take your official statement down."

"I want to," Reid said. "So I… I was in the yard, and then in the basement."

"Okay, do you remember how he got you in the basement?" Prentiss asked softly. "Did he hit you in the yard, or inside?"

"I'm not an idiot," Reid snapped, and then groaned, putting both hands up to his eyes, heels pressed hard against them. "Can they turn those lights down?"

"You want me to get you an eye mask?"

Reid flinched, then shook his head, and Prentiss stood to her feet, trying to twist the blinds a little more to stop some of the sunlight from getting into the room – they'd already closed them.

Reid was looking at her, biting his lip. "I'm really sorry," he said.

"It's okay," Prentiss said, reaching out and squeezing his good shoulder. "Irritability is one of the symptoms of a concussion. It'll pass."

"My leg is going to take weeks to heal," Reid said. "I'll be on crutches for a while after that, and I'll have to keep doing physical therapy, maybe walk with a cane for a little while." His fingers were tapping an irregular rhythm on the air in front of him, the anxiety palpable, and Prentiss couldn't help but feel for him. "Assuming I don't have any other issues with recovery. That's at least a month I won't be allowed to come to work, and several months I won't be able to be in the field – for a while I won't even be able to fly, Emily."

"We've all had injuries like this before," Prentiss reminded him. "It's part of the job." Reid was silent, and Prentiss said, "Are you really worried about not being able to work, or are you worried about other things? You've never had a serious relationship like this one before: it's gonna be a big adjustment."

Reid nodded, and she looked down at the twitch of his fingers. They sat in silence for a while, and then he said, "My leg is going to take weeks to heal."

She studied his face for a sign that he realised he'd said that a minute ago, but she didn't see one, and so she said, "Well, that's okay. You've recovered from injuries like this before."

Reid nodded. His fingers twitched.

She was grateful when Gideon came back in.