I've been looking forward to presenting this chapter for a very long time as this is truly the impetus for the entire story. Please keep in mind this is only my interpretation of the events, and that everyone reads the same situations differently. Also, I want to extend a heartfelt mea culpa to Mr. Bernero for any offence these prose may present. Certainly, none are intended.

I love Criminal Minds, I live Criminal Minds, I drive Criminal Minds to work in the morning, but sadly, I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.

And without further ado, chapter 3 . . .

XOXOXOXOXOXO

As Hotch took his seat in front of Reid, the younger man felt sick. He gulped hoping he wouldn't throw-up. He really hated how badly he'd let everyone down.

Though his voice was calm, Hotch's stern eyes gave the young man no leeway, "You knowingly jeopardized your life and the lives of others."

What could he say to that? Leave it to Hotch to state the pure and simple truth. Reid didn't trust his voice not to crack, so he simply nodded his head and looked as contrite as he could.

"I should fire you." This startled the young agent into at least making eye contact. Hotch again saw the pleading, apologetic eyes, but he still wasn't sure the kid was getting it. "You're the smartest kid in the room, but you're not the only one in that room. You pull something like this again, you will be. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir. It won't happen again." Though Reid was feeling thoroughly chastised, if this was the worst he was going to get from his boss, he was thankful. He was even more grateful that he hadn't lost his job, "Thank you."

But Hotch wasn't done yet. He had told the young agent to have a good answer to his question, "What were you thinking?"

Reid was prepared for this, "I was thinking that that would have been the second time a kid died in front of me." It seemed to Reid like a valid answer.

Hotch wasn't so sure, "You're keeping score. Just like Owen."

Reid was embarrassed to realize he hadn't thought his answer through well enough. He tried to cover this fact by making light with his response, "It was my turn to save one."

Hotch recognized this as dangerous thinking and wasn't about to let the young man lighten the mood just yet, "It doesn't work like that." He really needed to know that Reid was taking this seriously.

Maybe not, thought Reid, but, "It should." Though he had to admit to himself he didn't really feel that much better.

The kid was clearly hurting, and Hotch thought he had an idea why, "I know it's painful when the person you identify with is the bad guy."

Reid grimaced inside and wondered what life would be like if he didn't work with such talented profilers. Hotch, of course, made a direct hit on his principal worry, "What's that make me?"

The answer was simple, "Good at the job."

The depth of this gesture was not lost on Reid, and he struggled to contain his emotions. Hotch felt this conversation had gone as far as it should for the moment, and as he stood to leave the young man with his thoughts, he debated mentioning one last thing. He had recognized the combative behavior of the last few days from several months back. During the initial days when Reid was battling with his addiction to the insidious drugs he'd been introduced to by a deranged unsub, his behavior had been unpredictable and antagonistic. Hotch regretted that at the time he had not taken a more direct role in his young agent's fight. Instead, he had depended on Gideon to help the kid while he looked on only supporting from the periphery. With this in mind, he made his move, "I know it's none of my business, but when we land, I think you should go and a . . . catch the end of that movie" (Bernero, 2008).

Reid gave a slight, embarrassed nod. Of course Hotch knew where he had actually been. He always knew.

As Hotch walked away Reid once again pulled the meaningful coin from his pocket and considered what it all meant. When he needed help before, Gideon had been there to talk him through the endless nights of craving. Reid knew that without either Gideon's help or the drug, he would have been consumed by his own thoughts of guilt and pain. Now, his friend was gone and he was faced with the remorse of watching a child die in front of him. He had saved Owen from a similar fate, but it did not erase the pain of watching that child die. Nor did it stop him from fearing the next time he would have to witness a child suffer and die. Dilaudid would take these thoughts and feelings away, if only for a short time. But at what cost? Reid knew the statistics.

The man who had given him the coin was an FBI Director, superior even to Strauss, yet he clearly attended the Narcotics Anonymous meetings regularly. He had needed help overcoming his addictions at one time too. Reid missed Gideon more than ever right now. He had never had to outwardly admit to his friend what he needed; Gideon had simply known and taken matters into his own hands. Reid blushed a bit remembering how difficult he'd been, and how adroitly Gideon had managed his behavior. The young agent admitted to himself he didn't know how to ask for help. He had always been strong for everyone, never burdening anyone with his own problems. He was a genius after all. Shouldn't he be able to figure this one out for himself?

The longer the young man considered how badly he needed help, the deeper he spiraled into his anger and hurt. Certainly, Morgan was always willing to talk with him when he needed a sounding board, and Hotch had never turned him away, but neither man had ever gone out of their way to be there for him the way Gideon had been. How was he supposed to ask for help anyway? They wouldn't want to put themselves out for him. Why should they? He wasn't worth it. In fact Hotch had just said that if he ever got out of line like that again, he was going to be fired. Clearly, he was dispensable and therefore not worth the effort. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. When tears threatened to spring forth, he became even angrier. He was weak. Why wouldn't he be expendable?

As the jet flew ever closer to D.C., Reid became more and more anxious. He just wanted to get off, run away and find a fix. Ten months was a long time to go without his dilaudid, and right now it was all he could think about. Just one more hit, and then he would give it up forever. Logically, Reid knew this was erroneous thought, but his cravings were seriously getting in the way of that. If he could just relax and forget all of the pain and suffering for a little while, he believed his thinking would then be clear enough to figure out how to beat this drug. His legs began to bounce and his fidgeting hands started to sweat, "Please land. Please land", he pleaded silently.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

. . . and the angst begins . . .

Hope you enjoyed. Please let me know what you think.

References

Bernero, E. A. (Producer). (2008). Criminal minds. [Television series]. Glendale, CA:

ABC Studios in association with CBS Paramount.