There is no place safe

One week later

The sound of chatter and laughter filled the air. Reid sat propped up on Hotch's couch watching the flurry around him. Though he wished he could take a more active part, he was silently grateful that he didn't have to help Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi maneuver his large dresser through the front door and up the staircase. The grumbling and mild cursing that accompanied the activity told him they weren't having an easy time.

He cast a glance toward the dining room where Emily, JJ, and Garcia were sorting, ironing, folding, and hanging his clothes. Covering the floor was a growing pile of items they deemed "unacceptable for someone with his level of hotness," and they intended to replace them with more suitable clothing. The idea worried him a little but there wasn't much he could do, nor did he really want to stop them.

He patted the sling on his arm absently as he thought over what he knew about recent events. He was very weak and tired, and under strict orders to stay on bed rest for a while. His friends had to monitor him closely for a few weeks for any changes or developments, and he'd have regular appointments at the hospital for check-ups for the next six months. All in all, he figured he was pretty fortunate to survive as unscathed as he had. The occasional throb in his shoulder or wave of nausea served as reminders of how close he'd come.

After three days in ICU, and being administered a full battery of tests, the doctors moved Reid to a regular hospital room. The exams performed showed no signs of permanent damage or side effects, but some could appear later on. He'd managed to escape major brain injury, mostly thanks to the paramedics' quick assessment and the risky treatment at the hospital. Tests by his friends, however, revealed minor short term memory loss which the doctor said could remain indefinitely. Reid had no memory whatsoever of the attack in his apartment, and only a vague flash of being stabbed from earlier in the day. That brief memory taken out of context was quite terrifying to him, and he'd awoken every few hours in a panic. The doctors assured that this would fade with time, but his friends made sure he was never alone to be safe. He also remembered no details of the case or of the time spent chasing Adrian Matthews. A few other recent events were fuzzy as well, but all things considered these were minor problems.

Minor save for the fact that there were no clues as to who attacked Reid, and as he was the only eyewitness, it would be helpful if he could remember something-anything-to help the investigation. Because of the lack of leads, the team decided for Reid that he couldn't stay in his apartment, nor did they want him to be alone for an extended period of time. They didn't know if the attacker knew that Reid survived, or if he or she would return to finish the job. That is why the entire team swarmed into Hotch's house on Friday afternoon to move Reid's things in. Garcia picked him up from the base hospital earlier in the morning, and he'd spent the day confined to the couch as his team members argued, laughed, and joked around him. It made for a bit of a boring day for him, but Reid couldn't help but feel loved and appreciated as he "supervised" all of their hard work in his behalf. Besides, anything was better than sitting around the hospital.

"Hey Sweet cheeks!" Garcia's enthusiastic tone broke into his thoughts. He looked toward the dining room to see all three women sporting his reject clothes. They were laughing hysterically, and he couldn't help but join in at the sight.

"I never realized I had so many bad clothes," he commented.

"We did!" They yelled simultaneously. "Don't worry; we'll get you some nice new things!" Emily added with a wink.

"I think I should worry, but there isn't much I can do about it right now anyway."

"True," JJ replied, "so just sit back and take it easy. We'll do all the work."

"That sounds good to me," he responded, and laid back on the arm of the couch with a pillow propping up his injured arm. More laughter floated in from the dining room, and a smile graced his lips at the thought of what they were scheming for him. A flurry of noise and clattering feet told him they were headed upstairs with the approved clothes. Bits of conversation reached his ears as the team members reunited upstairs and the men saw the women's "outfits."

His feeling of contentment was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. He glanced toward the door, then toward the stairs as he waited for someone to come answer it. After a few moments it was obvious that they hadn't heard the noise. His vocal cords were still bruised from strangulation, so his voice didn't reach the group upstairs. The knock grew more insistent, so he struggled to his feet and slowly crossed to the door. Slightly breathless, he pulled the door open to see an annoyed-looking delivery man holding an armload of pizza boxes. The man's expression softened as he took in Reid's sling and bruises.

"I'm sorry, everyone else is upstairs." Reid said apologetically.

"That's ok, I'll just bring these in for you," the man answered kindly. He followed Reid to the dining room and set the boxes down on the table.

"Thanks. How much do we owe you?" Reid cast his eyes around for his wallet or someone's checkbook.

"47.50."

"Ok, hold on just a second." Hotch's wallet lay on the counter in the kitchen, and Reid raided it for the money plus tip. He escorted the delivery man out, and paused at the front door to ring the bell several times. A minute later Morgan and Hotch appeared in the hallway and walked toward the door.

"Over here," Reid called softly to them from his seat at the table.

"Reid! What are you doing up?" Hotch demanded as he entered the dining room with Morgan right behind him.

"Somebody had to answer the door," he replied calmly. "I borrowed the money from you Hotch; your wallet was the closest."

"That's fine. You should have called us, Reid. You aren't supposed to be up."

"Yeah, man, the doctor will have our heads if you are too active," Morgan added firmly.

"Sorry, I tried to call you but my voice isn't strong enough yet."

"Ok, then, that's acceptable," Hotch responded with a smile. "Now that you're up, do you want to eat here or go back to the couch?"

"Um, where is everyone else sitting?" I really don't want to be alone anymore.

Morgan must have understood why he asked the question, because he said that they'd all sit in the living room. Hotch gathered the plates and drinks from the kitchen while Morgan helped Reid back to the couch and called the others down. Once everyone was settled with food, Reid cleared his throat and addressed his friends.

"Ok, you all promised to fill me in on the case once I was home. This is home for now, so what's been going on?" The uneasy glances exchanged around him told him things weren't looking good. After a few moments, Hotch started telling him details.

"The Unsub tried to stage a robbery. But we saw through it because no burglar travels with his own liquid cyanide, and nothing obvious had been removed from your apartment. CSU found no trace evident; tests for prints, hair, foreign DNA all came up empty."

Garcia jumped into the story. "I've spent every spare minute scouring the security footage from the building and surrounding areas, looking for anything that might give us a clue.So far I've found a few possibles that I'm running facial recognition software on to see if we get any hits, but I'm not sure we will get a positive ID."

"Whoever the Unsub was, he or she knew exactly what to do to avoid detection," Rossi added solemnly. "He's covered his tracks thoroughly, which of course points us to a deliberate attack on you. We've yet to find a motive."

"This doesn't mean we're giving up. We're pulling out all of the stops man. We'll find this SOB eventually." Morgan's voice showed his frustration and determination.

"But for now we have no ideas?" Reid asked.

"Well, no, but don't worry Reid. We'll figure this out," Emily reassured him as she patted him on the knee. "After all, we are the best." They all smiled at her words despite the anxiety lingering in the atmosphere.

"And while we're figuring it out, you have a wonderful group of sitters who refuse to allow you to get hurt anymore!" JJ added cheerfully. Reid rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at her statement.

"Great, that's just what I needed!"

"Actually darling it seems to be," Garcia pointed out. "You manage to find trouble when left to your own devices."

"Hey! This wasn't my doing!"

"We know that, but for now you have six shadows just in case." Morgan elbowed him gently to emphasize his point.

Reid met the eyes of each of his friends. He could see their concern for him as well as their resolve to solve this case no matter what it took. Even with the apprehension tickling his mind, he'd never felt safer than he did now in the company of his team. He gave a small smile.

"Well, it could be a lot worse."

"Oh really?" Hotch asked curiously. "How's that?"

"I could have had to move in with Morgan."

Jeremiah Matthews studied his reflection in the steamy bathroom mirror. The sandy blond hair didn't compliment his blue eyes as well as his chocolate brown had, but the sacrifice was necessary. Still, he'd always prided himself on his looks, and he hated to compromise the advantages they'd given him. Not that I really look that bad; it's just different. I guess I'll have to get used to it.

He let out a heavy sigh and exited the bathroom. There were several changes he had to adjust to, not the least of which being his name change. It was ironic, he thought, that after all of these years he finally shared his brother's last name, and now he couldn't contact him at all. He couldn't risk the police monitoring his brother's visitors and connecting him to the attack on the Fed. Somehow-he was sure he didn't need to know how-James found out that the damn genius had survived. Jeremiah nearly exploded until James explained that he had no memory of the case, the murder attempt, or any surrounding events. Though it wasn't his desired outcome, at least the connection to him was broken.

Still it was much better to be cautious. That was why he'd packed his bags and flown out of DC the afternoon following the attack. James had connections in Boston, so Jeremiah took up residence in a downtown apartment until he could set up more permanent stakes. For now he just had to lay low and make sure he didn't attract any unwanted attention. It angered him to feel restricted, but his unlimited freedom was a worthwhile price to pay to avoid death row for murder. Besides that, he had money, connections, and time. He was sure he could find ways to keep himself occupied.

Author's note: Yes, this is really the end. I wasn't ready to get rid of Alex yet. Before anyone asks, I do have plans for a sequel in the works, but it could be awhile before I finish it. In the meantime, I have an alternate ending (I know, I hate them too but I had to do it) that I'll post separately if anyone wants to read it.

Thank you all for your support of this story. The response was better than I ever expected.

Author's note 2: Yes LT, you were right! ;)