Letters for Diana

A/N: Again, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR REVELATIONS. Also, slightly icky drug stuff ahead; be warned.

Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to leave a review; they were really appreciated and they help get it out so much faster. Also thank you to everyone who added this to their alerts/favourites, and finally, thanks to all you lurkers out there!

Hotch did not receive his dearest wish the following day: Reid was still not safe and was unable to write his mother her daily letter. In fact, it seemed God had decided to give Hotch the exact opposite of what he had asked for. Reid had been forced to sentence a married couple to death simply because the man was a lawyer. Hotch knew time was running out, but they were no closer to finding a possible location.

Hotch was facing the same predicament he had faced yesterday: should he show faith in Reid and his team, and keep Diana happy for the moment? Or should he come clean, call the hospital and admit to an ill woman that he had no idea where her son was, or even if he would live to see the next hour? It was a sickening burden. The one thing he wanted to do most was the one thing he knew he could never do: simply ignore Diana and hope she wouldn't notice a missing letter. Reid might forgive Hotch if he wasn't happy with him sending her letters or calling her to tell the truth; but Hotch knew Reid would never forgive him if he brushed Diana off as a minor irritant which would go away if he waited long enough.

As much as the professional, practical Unit Chief in him was screaming at him to call the hospital and tell Diana Reid the truth, the father and husband in him refused to do anything of the sort. He would not display such a blatant lack of trust in his team. Reid was doing everything he could to stay alive, even choosing one person to live so that the lot of them would not die. Hotch knew that would have been probably the most difficult moment of the young genius's life, and it would be a slap in the face if Hotch were not to respond to his bravery with trust that he would eventually make it out of there.

And so, he sat down at Charles Hankle's desk and began writing his fourth letter to Diana.

Dear Mom,

We still haven't managed to apprehend the unsub. Fortunately the officer he kidnapped is still alive – we were all surprised that he hasn't killed him yet; he's killing people he thinks have gone against the Bible, and to be honest that is just about everybody. Instead he's holding him somewhere and making him choose which "sinners" should be killed. He killed two people last night.

JJ is finding this case difficult – we all are, but she's struggling a lot. This man kept violent dogs on his property and they attacked her when she went too close. She had to shoot them – and you know JJ; she isn't too keen on guns.

We found out this guy has a drug addiction and we're hoping adding this to the profile will help us find him. So far we haven't had any major breakthroughs though.

I miss you a lot. It's pretty lonely out here; we don't have much contact with anyone out here in the country. There isn't even any cell phone reception. I'm feeling a bit down, to be honest.

I'm really hoping for a break in the case so I can get home, back to civilisation. I love you.

Spencer

It was, again, a very honest letter. Hotch knew Reid would be desperately lonely at the moment, and feeling a lot worse than "a bit down". But it was all he could give Diana for now. He was, as the letter stated, desperately hoping for a break in the case soon. He didn't think he had it in him to write another letter under these circumstances.

Hotch was relieved – he did not have to write another letter under the circumstances of the previous two. He did, however, have to write a third letter to Diana the very next day. This time, it was done with Reid's approval.

They hadn't been able to rescue Reid – the kid had rescued himself. This only made Hotch's guilt for sending Reid and JJ to Hankle's house a thousand times worse: he had gotten Reid kidnapped, then relied on him to find the location he was being held in, and finally relied on him to shoot his tormentor. He had a brief flash of worry when Tobias lay dying; he didn't at all like the look on Reid's face as he crawled next to the other man – his expression too closely mirrored grief, but it had only been one brief instant.

They had driven Reid to the hospital themselves. Reid had protested feebly at first, but then he had quieted and allowed them to do whatever they liked.

Hotch had felt very ill as he listened to the doctor's report. They had found Dilaudid in his tox screen. Tobias Hankle had forced drugs upon his subordinate, and they would all have to wait while Reid underwent a short but extremely painful detox.

Nobody slept the remainder of the night. Once the withdrawal began, it had not taken long for Morgan to say the wrong thing and be thrown from the room. Hotch certainly didn't think it was Morgan's fault; he was probably just being his ordinary self. The detox made Reid extremely irritable, and he had been fighting with anyone and everyone he came in contact with even before he threw Morgan out.

It was around midday when Reid asked to speak to Hotch alone. Garcia had been too upset to visit Reid since the withdrawal began, but Hotch didn't feel any fear from the trembling, sweating shell of a man that Tobias had left behind. He only felt sympathy.

Reid was lying on his side, one hand pressed to his forehead and his eyes firmly closed, staving off the worst headache he had ever had. Lack of nutrition from his captivity and subsequent vomiting and diarrhoea had left him extremely weak, and a persistent low grade fever ensured he was permanently uncomfortable. Both his hands were visibly trembling.

"I want to read what you wrote," Reid said in a low, very pained voice. "I know you wrote to her. I want to read it."

The corner of Hotch's mouth twitched. "I thought we weren't supposed to profile each other," he remarked, very quietly so as not to offend Reid's senses. He pulled the two photocopies from the pocket in which he had been keeping them and placed them in Reid's outstretched hand.

Reid was in too much pain to keep his eyes open for long, but thanks to his ability to read at 20,000 words per minute, he only had to open them briefly to read and memorise both letters. He simply dropped the pages on the mattress beside him when he was done, and Hotch wordlessly moved them to the bedside table. "Thank you," Reid murmured.

"It's no problem."

Reid opened his eyes again, briefly meeting Hotch's gaze before he slammed them shut. They were red, as though he had been crying, but Hotch knew he hadn't cried since they found him in the graveyard. "I need you to do something else," Reid mumbled.

Hotch suspected Reid wouldn't be so forward if he wasn't so ill. He would have ordinarily used phrases like "if you don't mind" or even a simple "please". It wasn't that Hotch minded, because he still felt so guilty about the whole incident that Reid could ask him to do anything and he'd do it. It was just an observation. "What is it?" he asked.

"I want to write my mom a letter," Reid admitted, and Hotch felt a sudden surge of sympathy as his voice cracked, and for the first time since Tobias's death, Reid lost his composure. "But I can't do it; my hands won't stop shaking. And I can't wait; the doctor says it'll be like this another twenty four hours at least, and I just –"

"Reid, do you want to dictate to me?" Hotch offered, interrupting Reid's speech. Reid gave a tiny nod, and Hotch briefly excused himself so he could find some paper and a pen. When he returned, Reid was still in the curled-up position he had left him in, the hand with an IV in it pressed against his forehead and the other clutching the blankets. Hotch sat down in the chair next to the bed, and Reid began speaking.

"Dear Mom," he said quietly. "I'm dictating this letter to Hotch; he's writing it down for me." He took a breath. "I need you to know that I'm okay. But I also want you to know the truth.

"It was me; I was the police officer I wrote you about. I didn't want you to worry, so I lied to you. But the past two days have been the worst days of my life. I was scared all the time and I had no idea when it would end. But I'm safe now. I'm in a hospital and I should be going home in a day or two.

"I know you don't like me studying serial killers because it's too sad, so I know you won't like to hear of this. But I wanted to tell you the truth. I'm going to call you when I get back home. I'd love to hear your voice.

"I hope you're doing well; have you been reading anything recently? I'd love something to read, but I didn't bring anything with me. I didn't anticipate staying in a hospital. Do you have any recommendations?

I love you, Mom, and I really look forward to hearing from you." With that, Reid tapered off, and Hotch signed the letter. "Hey, Hotch?" Reid mumbled, his voice losing its clarity as exhaustion kicked in once again.

"Yes?"

"Could you wait to mail that a bit longer?" Reid requested, tugging the thin blanket a little closer to his chin. "I want to think about whether I really want to tell her."

Hotch nodded, putting the letter in his pocket. As Reid winced again, facing another wave of nausea or pain – Hotch couldn't tell which – the older profiler reached out and laid a comforting hand upon his subordinate's thin shoulder.

A/N: Again, any comments are appreciated. To answer a commonly asked question, yes, I will be tackling Amplification. I'm going in chronological order of the show.