Title: Salutarem Via

Summary: After an international mission comes into the light, Reid has to face the fact that his team will now need to know one of his biggest secrets: his life way from the BAU.

A/N:I know I suck for not keeping up with updates, but I just do not have the time for such commitment as updating regularly. I apologize. I know for next time not to start such a big project with half of it unfinished.

On the brighter side, this story is almost done. I cannot see it going more than a few more chapters. I am struggling to find a truly satisfying ending for all of you, so if any of you have any ideas please do not hesitate to tell me. I probably won't post again for awhile. I just don't have the time. I know...I suck.

I also wanted to thank all of you that nominated me for a Profiler's Choice Award. I never expected that from any of you, so the nomination came as a total surprise. You all are truly the greatest people on this planet!

Back to the story...again I am sorry for all of the mistakes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds for if I did, it truly is a cruel and unusual punishment for me. I would treat these lovely characters with such respect.

Chapter Twenty-One: Brave Heart Beats

"Real courage is when you know you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what."- Harper Lee

Rossi hated hospitals. They reminded him of all the wounds the world inflicted on him. Death reeked in the air, and sadness melted into the walls. His bruised bones wanted nothing more than sink into the roughness of the hospital bed, but his fury would not allow for such an event.

Courage building in his chest, David Stephen Rossi was honorably bound to launch into the fierce fight ahead of his team more than ever. As the ache took over more of his consciousness, he recalled the reason for such yearning to charge with a sword in hand. There was blood split, and he was more the partly to blame. With the quiet freezing the room, he wished he did not steer Emily away. He needed her brassiness to balance him.

A few more moments of silence and his resilience was at its end. He needed a release. He needed to punch something. He needed to punch someone, but that someone was long dead, incinerated with the explosion that killed the man that saved his life.

At the moment, Rossi realized one important piece of information that had escaped him. He could have died. He should have died.

With a booming voice, Morgan stomped his way into Rossi's self-pity, "Hey, Rossi! Emily sent me to watch over you, so she can take a break from all of your Italian suave." Stopping in his tracks, Morgan absorbed the tension in the room left by Rossi exasperation in his situation. "Hey, I know that look, and you are not going anywhere."

Rossi glared at him waiting for him to relent. Morgan simply marched closer to him with a worried expression, "Man, you just got blown up. No one thinks you should get back in the race, not while you took a blast like that...a blast that killed someone."

Understanding and calm were expected as Rossi's hotheadedness had dissipated over the years, yet what came was a heated plea begging for a chance to fix the wounds just this one time, "Yeah, saving my ass, so the least I could do is catch the guy that blew us up."

Frustrated, Morgan folded his arms across his chest, "Get over yourself, man. I get it! You want to finish what you started because that's what the big men do. But look at you, I mean really look at you. It won't be courageous for you to go out there. It would be stupid. You did your part, Rossi. Now, let us do ours. Okay?" Arms now by his sides, he waited for Rossi to react to his words of rather wise wisdom in his humble opinion.

Nothing came, so they settled into the silence anticipating the other's movement. Eventually, Rossi relented, "I know you're right, but I can't help but feel old and cowardly just sitting on the sidelines until Doctor's orders say otherwise."

Morgan nodded, "I know. I know."

Seeing the pain in his form, Morgan changed the subject of conversation into something lighter. Not that it made much of a difference to the overall stage of the atmosphere. Both men knew the road ahead of them was rough and long, and neither man knew of the type of preparations needed to survive the ordeal. They simply hoped that their steady determination and reckless courage was enough to end the war that their friend started long ago. They wanted to stand by him as he firmly declared his place in all of this without hesitation, without resentment, without fear.

That same friend raged on in a different war as he witnessed the intimate pain of someone he dearly loved. Her nightmares spilled on the earthly plane and transformed themselves from ignorable imaginations to tangible truths.

Glancing at the man, Dr. Hayes took pity, "We gave her a sedative to help her get dreamless sleep, but it won't guarantee anything as you well know." No response. "Spencer, we will try to make her as comfortable as possible, but you know more than I do about this...she will have nightmares. She will have flashbacks. She will have moments of panic. Physically, you and I both know she will be fine. Healthy and fit, she will recover as well as anyone in her position. Mentally, emotionally, I can't be as sure."

Stepping toward him, she engulfed him in a makeshift embrace offering some sort of encouragement, comfort, "You have to be sure you want to be there for everything because the moment she gets up to starts. You can't just give up half way through. She won't survive that. She needs someone that will be there a hundred percent of the time." Kissing his head, Savannah displayed just the treasure she was, "And we will all be here for you when it gets tough. I promise Spencer. We aren't going anywhere, and if Derek tries something, says something out of line...I'll kick his ass."

Briefly laughing, Reid trembled as his hand was placed over hers, "Thank you, Savannah."

No words were necessary, she simply squeezed him lovingly before exiting the room leaving Reid alone to contemplate all that had happened. He was not enough for her, he was more than aware of his place in her life as a past boyfriend and colleague that just may hold on to the memory of her too often. Slowly, Meave popped in his head. He loved her, and she still died. She still left him alone to trudge on. Could he be enough for Adelaide?

Dr. Spencer Reid was simply a man still half in love with a broken woman attempting to piece together enough of her soul to carry on living. An impossible feat, they both knew, yet neither one of them could let go of the idea of fixing it, fixing them. They both suffered in the stillness of the bland room filled with so many uncertainties. Both of them acknowledged the honesty hanging in their breaths as they yearned to be close to the other, yet...yet something pulled them away from the love still beating life in the courage they shared. Fear of the pain ahead, so sure that they only could experience the ache of a heart breaking away the remaining pieces.

Still, Dr. Reid glimpsed at the sleeping face of the subject of his affections. Her beauty not in any way ruined by the damage inflicted upon her. He looked at her and knew that all those burns would be worth to merely be in her presence.

As he moved closer, he gently grabbed her hand murmuring, "I love you, and I promise I'll be here for you no matter what. I'm not going anywhere."

Eyes still encoded in the darkness, a delicate voice filled with teary confessions responded in kind, "I know." A slight pause increased both their heartbeats. After a shaky breath, she swore her own oath to him, "Me too," before she drifted back into the shadows of sleep.

No braver thing was uttered that night as the couple, unsure and unsteady, shakily rose again from a burned past covered in ashes and love looking forward to the startling future.

When JJ called Will relaying everything she could about the last twenty-four hours or so, she expected a sense of surprise at the wildness of the tale. When he gave no such response to her words, her confusion played right out in her voice despite her best attempts to hide it.

His words in reply to what she considered unbelievable stung, "Don't worry, Cherie. You can't see everything. You're not God. You'll miss things like Reid's erratic behavior and his constant dodging when it is so similar to his personality. You miss things especially when you are this close. We'll talk about it more when I get home. Henry's asleep, and I don't wanna wake him. I'm almost there anyway. I'll see you in a little bit. Love you."

The fact that her husband could see something so plainly that she could not forced her to call into question her ability to do her job. She was the profiler, and he was the detective. Yes, he was a good one with an impeccable record, but she was the expert in human behavior. How on earth did he catch something so miniscule that she missed it?

Three hours later, JJ and Will sat across each other at the hospital cafeteria table. Both of the them appeared tired with prominent blackness under their eyes as neither of them slept much in the last day. JJ worked the case by Reid's side, and Will gripped it from his limited perspective.

Scoffing, JJ leaned in, "I told you to get away from this. People have died; one of our own has died, and you want ahead and investigated the case. Will, what the hell!?"

William LaMontagne Jr. Prepared himself for the tongue lashing his protective wife would give him as he fully understood her everburning need to compartmentalize her personal life and her professional life. He also recognized his own desire to maintain his own pride. He was not to stand by as his wife finished something he began. Despite the danger and the warnings and his own gut reaction, he intended to end this war and bring peace to a mother that lost her daughter in such a brutal manner.

Getting closer, he huffed, "You're doin' your job, and I haven't asked you to stop. All I want in return is the same thing. This is my job, and I am damn good at it." He handed her some files. They were thin, yet the information held within them was vital. "I may only be the police, but I have my own contacts. I had a friend that works in DC fixing, and with their discretion, I was able to connect the Susan Hand's murder to that Stafford guy."

JJ pushed herself back, "How did you do that?"

Smirking, Will flipped through the files to a list of numbers, "Susan Hand's cell phone went missing, and we weren't able to find it. We had a number, and we got the most recent calls made to her cell. The thing was that we weren't able to get the names of two of those numbers. The fixer got the names. One was to Wanda Kijek who currently works for Stefan Stafford. The other is a private landline that was routed to a building that is owned by Stefan Stafford."

JJ pulled him in for a kiss, "This is perfect. We needed something to connect him to everything. This may not get us a conviction especially with his influence, but it is enough to actually put his name out there. To get everyone after him." Her smile grew with each second. Her original anger and worry forgotten in the newfound glory.

Connecting their eyes, both of them shared the same passion to carry on until the end was in sight. The horizon was glittering, and it became brighter with each new piece of evidence. The end was near, and their bravery pumped the blood in their bodies ready to take on the next battle that would win the war, both of them willing to live with the hurt to come.