Riley opened the file she'd been holding in her hands for almost three weeks straight. It wasn't ideal to work on the weekends, but at least her patients kept her mind off things.

The parole hearing wasn't for another five weeks, but she wanted to be as familiar with this as possible. There was no way she's going to let them release this man. She'd fight with every power inside her to keep him locked up. He may have fooled everyone else, but she wasn't buying it. His remorse, his kindness, his new faith in God – it was all an act. Riley saw right through him and made every attempt to get everyone else to see the truth. Everyone working in that hospital thought she was overreacting or overcompensating or just plain mean, but her gut instincts told her. This was a dangerous man and he had to stay put away for the rest of his life.

If he did get out, it would only be a matter of time before bodies started showing up again. The same MO, the same everything.

"Riley," someone said, knocking on her open door.

"Sam!" she exclaimed, almost spilling her coffee as she set it down. She quickly closed the file.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He said, stepping in.

"No, it's alright, I was just… what's up?" She looked up intently, hoping her eyes hid her fear.

"I need a favor." He said quickly, taking a seat.

"Okay, what is it?" He wasn't one who normally asked for favors.

"I've been asked to temporarily take on another patient in New York City; I'll be gone for about two weeks, maybe more. It's a very severe case. I'm passing my patients onto a few of the other doctors while I'm gone and was wondering if you would take a couple."

"Oh," she said, relieved. "Sure, no problem."

"Great," he exclaimed. "I'll make sure their times don't interfere with your schedule. Although, there is one more thing."

"What?" she asked.

"I'm supposed to start with a new patient tomorrow. He's an agent, he's suppose to see me weekly for about three months. I don't think it would be best to let you work with him for so short a time and then start over with me, so-"

"Save your breath, I'll take over the case."

"Are you sure?" he asked, concerned.

"Sam, it's no problem." She said with a bright smile. "You owe me, but it's no problem."

"I owe you big time." He said, staring at her intently. "Maybe I could… repay you over dinner?"

Riley bit her lip for a moment in a disagreeable way. "Sam, you're a great guy, and normally I would accept, but… I don't date people I work with. It never works out."

"Oh," he said. "I see."

"Believe me, it's not you. I don't think I'd date anyone in the F.B.I., but certainly not someone in the same department."

"I understand, it was worth a shot though." He said with a comforting smile and stood to leave. He patted her arm to show no hard feelings. "I'll drop those cases at the front desk before I leave."

"Thanks," she said as he closed the door and left.

Now she'd be working Saturdays and Sundays. Working weekends was not ideal, but it was a perfect distraction.

At a quarter to noon, Reid arrived at the F.B.I. headquarters. He didn't want to anger Dr. Andrews in anyway, so purposely arrived early. He just had to stay calm and act natural, give nothing for Dr. Andrews to be concerned about. Three months would pass, he'd get the green light to stay at the B.A.U. and put this whole thing behind him.

"Hi," Reid said to the receptionist. "I'm Dr. Spencer Reid. I have an appointment at 12 o'clock."

She began typing at lightening speed and soon nodded in agreement. "Yes, you can have a seat. I'll alert the doctor that you're here."

"Thank you," he said. He sat in the closest chair and waited as the receptionist picked up her phone. "Yes, Dr. Reid is here for his session." She waited for a moment. Reid looked over the waiting room.

The room was dimly light and with a few still life paintings on the walls. It had seemed the decorator didn't want anything too stimulating, perhaps as to not upset the patients that would sit there. There was no else there, probably because barely anyone worked on the weekends, at least not in this department. He knew J.J. was busy looking over case files for the next day over at the office, but everyone else he knew was home. And J.J. wouldn't be there long as it was.

"Alright, thank you." The receptionist said and hung up. "Dr. Parker will see you now. Room 202." She said, and turned back to her computer.

"What?" Reid asked. "No, I'm Dr. Andrews' patient. I'm here to see him."

"Well, Dr. Andrews is out of town." She said, typing on the computer again. "Are you sure your appointment wasn't cancelled?"

"If it was, no one told me." He stood and walked back to the desk. He glanced onto the screen, but the glare from the receptionist's lamp made it impossible to read.

"Oh, I see." She said, indicating something on the screen. "Dr. Andrews had to turn your case over to someone else since he'll be gone for so long. He had to have the other doctors take on all his patients during his absence."

"Well, how long until he comes back?"

"We're not sure, but it doesn't matter for you anyway." She was getting annoyed. "It says here you've been permanently reassigned to Dr. Parker. She'll be in charge of your case from now on."

Reid heaved a heavy sigh. "Perfect," he mumbled, turning and heading to the corridor. He might as well pack up his desk now.

He knocked on the door of Room 202 and a quick "Come in," was heard from inside. He took a deep breath, hoping against hope he wouldn't be hit with the same debilitation once he saw her.

That was a frivolous thought.

Standing at one of her bookshelves, Dr. Parker was faced away from him. Even from behind, Reid felt intoxicated by her. It was almost like being back on Dilaudid. (Almost). In a dark brown skirt and light blue button up blouse, the same black nylons as before and, Reid noticed joyfully, the Mary Jane's.

"Be with you in a second," she said, reaching up to her top shelf, which was ever so slightly out of reach. He should have run over to help her reach whatever she needed, but before he could convince himself to, his mind became too foggy with the image of her stretching up to reach, the fabric from her blouse tightening around her as her elegant arm extended.

"Take your time." He said.

"There's fresh coffee if you'd like some."

"Thanks," he responded. She seemed in better spirits today. He went over to the counter to help himself to a cup. It brought him closer to her making the smell of the coffee mix with her subtle scent of perfume and cigarette smoke. He was grateful to be able to busy himself for a moment while inhaling it in.

She pulled her book down and went over to the coffee table in the center of two couches and a large arm chair. Reid nonchalantly watched her and took a sip.

The coffee the hit his mouth was unreasonably strong and he quickly spit it out, all over her cream colored carpet.

Dr. Parker looked in amazement at the spectacle, her mouth open. Reid slowly glanced at her, watching her a full minute before she spoke. "Wow," she finally said, looking partly amazed. "That'll stain. That'll stain nicely."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought you said this was coffee, not battery acid."

"I guess I should have warned you, I make it fairly strong." She said. "Take a seat, let's get started."

"I'm sorry-"

"It's fine, let's get started."

Reid took a seat on the couch and looked at the book she had taken down. A Look into the Mind of the Criminally Insane. "I hope that book's not for me."

"I don't think so, unless there's something in there about spitting perfectly good coffee all over a clean carpet."

"I said I was sorry."

"I know," she said quickly again. She grabbed some pens and a legal pad. She pulled his file out from under a pile of disarray papers and laid it open. "Alright, Dr. Spencer Reid. Let's get started."

"Do I have to lie down?" he asked.

"Do you want to lie down?" she asked.

"Not really," he replied.

"Then don't lie down. You're just supposed to be comfortable."

They sat in silence for a moment. Dr. Parker stared at Reid; Reid stared absent mindedly at the book cover. "Where do you want to start?" he asked.

"Where ever you want to start." She said.

"Am I supposed to talk about my mother? Or maybe my childhood?"

"If you want to talk about your mother or your childhood." She answered.

"I don't get this, what am I supposed to talk about with you?"

"You know, for someone with a Ph.D. in psychology, you certainly don't know much about this process." She stated. Then, taking a deep breath, she folded her hands and continued. "Okay, how can I explain this? You see, let's think of this as just one long venting session. Do you have a friend who you turned to when you need to talk about something or just get something off your chest? Even if it doesn't concern them at all."

Reid thought about it. "I have a few," he said. A whole team, actually.

"Okay, that's basically what where going to start at. If you need to get something off your chest or just confide in someone, that's what I'm here for. We'll start from there, and once we create a foundation, I'll know of what areas we should focus on. So, do you have anything you'd like to talk about?"

His mind started swimming. Of course there was his mother: his guilt over putting her in a home, his worry that her schizophrenia had been passed to him. His childhood, the torture he endured at school, his need to prove himself on the team, the fact that his insides did somersaults and cartwheels every time he looked at his therapist…

"Not really," he said.

"Oh, you're one of the difficult ones, aren't you." She began writing. Reid didn't even bother to try and see it. "Okay, um… why don't you tell me something about your last case?"

Reid nodded. He glanced over quickly and saw the coffee stain again. He was making a bigger jerk of himself by the minute. Thinking it over, it was obviously understandable as to why Dr. Parker had it in for him. Turning back, he began retelling their case from Hawkeye, Iowa.