Reid pulled away from her, removing the possibility of kissing her. His hands lingered on her curves, unwilling to detach himself. "I probably should go,"

"Oh," Riley said, turning around to find a clock. Surprisingly, she didn't seem to know where to look for one. Didn't people always know where things like that were in their home. Finally, she spotted one leaning against the wall next to a poster of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. "Wow, it's almost ten." She said, turning back to him.

Reid couldn't believe how time had slipped away. "When did that happen?"

"Sometime after 9 o'clock, I think," she said, jokingly. "Aren't you supposed to be the genius."

"You're funny," he sneered with a smile. Riley slipped from him as she stood up, and Reid reluctantly allowed her to pull away. Reid didn't want to leave, and was hoping Riley would protest and beg him to stay longer. Not wanting to linger, he rose and Riley lead him to the door.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep on you," she said, grabbing his coat for him. "Literally,"

"It's not a big deal," he replied, unwilling to admit how good it felt to so close after so long. He watched as she reached over to open the door for him. "You know Hotch and Rossi tried to convince me not to come."

"Is that so?"

"They were just being considerate, but… they thought it would be too emotional for us."

"Are they nuts? We're not teenagers." She leaned lightly against the open door, hovering over the threshold, almost like she was blocking it. "Are you… starting to regret coming?"

"I was regretting it on the plane," he said, watching as her face fell. "I didn't want them to think I was incompetent by not going, but I had a secret feeling this would be a disaster. But now that I'm here… I'm glad. I'm glad we can be friends."

She smiled brightly. "Me, too. I've really missed you. I wish you would have called me, we wouldn't have had to wait so long to find this out."

"The phone works both ways, Riley," He pointed out. "But… I think we needed that time apart… to…" he struggled with the last words of the sentence, "…get over each other."

Her smile faded ever so lightly. "You're right." She looked around, realizing she was blocking his exit. "Oh, I'm stalling. I'll see you in the morning, then?"

"Absolutely. Do you need a ride?"

"No, I usually walk," She regretted it as soon as she said it. "But, I'll meet you there. Early. We'll have coffee."

"Sounds great." He replied as he slipped on his coat. Riley stepped aside, making a clear exit for him. With a deep breath, Reid moved to step out, pausing slightly.

Once again, his brain seemed to disconnect with his body. "Goodnight," he said, almost in a whisper. Slowly, he leaned down to kiss her cheek. Riley gasped softly as his lips brushed against her soft skin; she had to stop herself from moving over for her own lips to connect with his.

"Goodnight," she whispered as he pulled away.

The door closed, separating them. Riley leaned up against it, wishing she'd asked him to stay. Unaware that Reid was standing outside, waiting just a moment longer, hoping she would let him back in.

But Riley didn't arrive early the next morning. Sleep eluded him once again, his thoughts buzzing around his brain like a hive of killer bees. Around six, he gave up, left a note at the front desk for the rest of the team, and headed into the station.

Stood up, Reid sat alone in the conference room with his fourth cup of coffee. The rest of the team arrived, ready for work. All hopes of time alone with Riley diminished.

"Sleep well?" Emily asked as they claimed seats around the table. Anyone could see, from his sagging posture and drooping eyelids her words were sarcastic.

He took a long swig of coffee, thoroughly burning his mouth. No regrets, though. He needed something to wake him up.

"Why'd you leave so early this morning?" Morgan asked, sitting on the table next to young agent.

The truth would only get lectures and ridicule. "Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd come in early and… look over these notes."

"How'd it go at the crime scene yesterday?" Emily pulled the closest file to her; her tone had become more serious. "Hotch said you confirmed it was Maria."

That reminded him. Reid reached into his bag, extracting the small baggy containing the silver chain and M talisman. He set it on the table for them to see. "Her mother's going to want that back, I think."

"She's supposed to identify the body today." Emily added. "I think it might be best if you and I met her there."

Reid didn't answer. His attention returned to the collection of notes, written by the unsub's own hand. Eyes scanning, words flying through his mind at impossible speeds, he looked for hidden meaning in the words. Most of it didn't make any sense, sounding more like the ramblings of a madman. It was possible their unsub was mentally unstable.

But it was the bottom corner that got his attention. Small, barely noticeable, was a circled eight. It seemed like a page number, but it was written with the same ink as the pen. "Guys," he said. "Anyone notice this before?"

He pointed out the tiny notation, passing the note around. He picked up two of the others, finding a tiny 14 and 32. Eleven pages, each with varying numbers. A quick scan of all of them revealed a range from 3 to 32. Everyone took turns reading the note over, trying to decipher the meaning of the numeral.

"How did we not notice that?" JJ asked, looking around.

"We've been too distracted trying to find the meaning to this nonsense." Morgan admitted, taking a sip of his coffee.

JJ chimed in again. "Could the text be connected to the number?"

Her question was voiced to no one in particular, but all three sets of eyes eventually looked to Reid, still reading over Maria's note. "I don't know."

The others kept talking around him, discussing, debating. They turned into white noise, wondering what this note, both words and numbers, could possibly mean. He reached into his bag and removed The Shining, slipping the note in between the pages. Future reference, just in case.

The numbers were still buzzing in his head when Reid and Emily left for the morgue. The number could be symbolic for something. Each number could represent the victim, but if that were true, why not go one through eleven? The highest number was 32; was that a message there was going to be a total of 32 victims?

"32 victims," Reid muttered.

"What?" Emily asked, glancing at him from the driver's seat.

"Just thinking about those numbers. Do you think it's possible the Undertaker is labeling his victims by number?"

Emily shrugged, knowing it were plausible. "Why go out of order, though?"

"That's the same thing I was thinking." He attempted to rub the sleep out of his eyes, the sleep that always attempted to creep up on him at the worst times. Blinking, he glimpsed in Emily's direction, noticing the smirk on her face.

"What?" he asked, already annoyed.

"Just wondering why you're so tired." She said. "You never made it back to the precinct yesterday, did… anything-"

"Nothing happened," he finished. "I took Riley out to dinner to make her feel better. She got a little upset at the crime scene."

Emily was suddenly sympathetic. "Oh. That can be a shock your first time. It still shocks me."

"Yeah?" Reid inquired. Emily always seemed to be a rock. She cared about the victims; it wasn't like she was unfeeling, but she rarely let her emotions get in the way. But Emily nodded just the same. "I guess we all do. But Riley isn't trained for this. She's a doctor, not an agent. It's a little disturbing for her, seeing someone dead like that, knowing they were alive just a day before… I was worried about her, so I took her to dinner. Afterward, we went back to her place," Emily raised her eyebrows, "and we had coffee! I told you, nothing happened."

"I believe you," she explained. "But… that doesn't mean nothing almost happened."

"Nothing almost happened, either." Reid corrected. She still didn't look convinced. "Emily, believe me, I would have loved to have spent the night with her. But I have more respect for her than that."

"Reid, I'm just tossing this idea out there, but… have you ever considered just, I don't know, telling her the truth?"

"The truth?"

"Repeating the question. I mean it, Reid. Does Riley know you still love her?"

"Of course she knows!" Reid exclaimed. "That was one thing we assured each other before she left Quantico."

"No, that's not what I mean. Does Riley know you're still in love with her? Does she know how much you miss her? How much you want her back? Because you're not doing yourself any favors by trying to deny how you feel."

Reid was becoming annoyed, especially over the fact that his friend was right. Staring straight ahead, he answered "Emily… I am over her."

A snort came from her direction. "Yeah… I'm really convinced."

It felt like a dream. Slowly opening her eyes, the smell of Earth surrounded her. A soft stream of sunlight was shinning down. She hadn't seen the sun in… how long had she been out?

The last thing she remembered was waiting at the bus stop. She had just left Craig's house… they'd had another fight. Too proud to have him drive her home, she had decided to take the bus. Now… things were blurry.

Her wrists were bound with rope; the fabric was so tight, cutting into her skin. Her head ached, remembering vaguely a blow to the head. How had that happened? Wasn't she trying to run away? Finding it difficult to breath, she attempted to open her mouth, finding it seal shut. Duct tape. Duct tape for sure. She pulled at her arms to try and reach to her mouth… no, they were bound behind her… it was too tight, there was no way to wiggle out.

Soft crumbles of dirt fell around her, moist from yesterday's rain. She shivered, the falling soil only making her discomfort worse. Attempting to angle her eyes, she noticed something wooden beneath her. It was hard, shaped differently so it was uncomfortable to lie down here. Panels of unfinished wood, kept together by rusty nails… with the throbbing pain in her head, she couldn't make sense of her surroundings. What was going on? Why was she here? How long had she been asleep?

She moaned through the tape, making little noise, completely muffled by the steady sound of the shovel. It abruptly dawned on her, dirt couldn't shovel itself. Someone was up there. She cried out louder, but whoever was up there couldn't hear her. Did they know she was there?

The sunlight was disappearing. The reality of her situation came to her, and tears formed in her eyes, the dirt falling around her, leaving her in darkness.