*I've decided that there will be character death. It won't necessarily be Reid but it will happen. If you don't like it, don't read it and such. I don't want to upset anyone. To everyone else, thank-you for reading!*

"Hotch, what is going on with you?" Morgan demanded as his boss pulled him into a different room. The unit chief looked flushed, agitated.

"I…I have something important to tell you," Hotch said. "You're going to think I'm crazy, Morgan, but…" he trailed off. He didn't sound like himself; more like a scared kid confessing a terrible secret.

Morgan nodded slowly. "Alright, Hotch," he said, "What is it?"

Hotch swallowed. "It's just, I…" he began, but trailed off again. "I think that…" he bit his lip.

"Hotch, what the hell is going on?" Morgan demanded. He had never seen his boss act like this before, and it frightened him.

Hotch opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. He fixed Morgan with a piercing stare.

"I think Reid is the unsub."

Morgan just stared at him numbly, quite sure that Hotch had lost his ability to speak properly and had started babbling nonsense.

"I know you don't believe me yet, but if you'll just hear me out, I—"

"Hotch." Morgan interrupted, simply to put a stop to him. "What the hell." It was not an accusation or a question; just an expression of blatant confusion.

"I know Morgan, but just listen to me. I can't ignore it anymore. You remember his mother dying, eight months ago? He didn't seem all that upset about it, did he?"

Morgan just stared.

"She overdosed on a drug called Nembutal. And do you remember Tucker?"

Morgan continued staring.

"He overdosed on the same drug two months ago. Both in mental hospitals, right? And now—now he's just quitting for no reason, and these murders here, and the man who talked to that nurse was an FBI agent who looked like Reid, so—"

"Stop." Morgan forced himself to speak the word, and Hotch broke off, looking at him desperately for some sort of reassurance. "Just stop it, Hotch." For some reason he couldn't explain Morgan felt immeasurably violated; the world had ceased to make sense.

"You do see, though, don't you Morgan?" Hotch demanded.

Morgan felt himself shaking despite his best efforts. "Hotch, what the hell is wrong with you?" There was no anger in his voice, just a desperate, frightened, plea. Hotch wasn't supposed to do this; Hotch couldn't be doing this.

Hotch couldn't be crazy.

"With me?" Hotch looked confused. "There's nothing wrong with me! Were you even listening?"

Morgan just shook his head. He backed away. "I have to…" he trailed off, then turned and walked rapidly away from his unit chief.

Hotch stared after him, surprised and very irritated. "Idiot," he muttered, then decided he was being too harsh. It made sense that Morgan was in denial; he had been, at first, as well. He'd give the younger profiler some time to think it over; he'd see it eventually.

Hotch returned to his team. "Prentiss, Rossi," he called, and the two agents walked over. "Did you examine the crime scene?" he asked.

Rossi nodded. "Just like we thought. No prints on anything, no bullets left behind, no nothing. This guy is smart."

Smarter than you'd ever believe, Hotch thought to himself.

"And the murders took place in three totally different wings, the third one even on a different floor. So this guy obviously chose his victims very specifically."

"Well, we already knew that," Prentiss added. She glanced at her watch. "Is there anywhere we can go for lunch? I haven't eaten since yesterday."

Hotch nodded. "Get everyone outside in five minutes and we'll head back towards the police station."

The team assembled out front and headed towards the police vans. Hotch got into a car with Prentiss and started the engine.

"Hey, Hotch?" Prentiss asked, after several minutes of driving.

"Hmm?"

"What did you do to Morgan?"

Hotch shrugged. "Nothing in particular. Why?"

"I don't know. He's acting like someone just killed his dog."

Hotch snorted. "Maybe someone did just kill his dog," he suggested, trying to shift the attention away from himself.

"No, I mean—ever since that talk with him. I saw you pull him into the other room." Hotch stiffened. "What did you say to him?"

Hotch shrugged. "We're all just upset about Reid, I suppose," he said stiffly.

"Oh, he'll be back," Prentiss said.

Hotch raised his eyebrows. "What makes you so sure?"

"Well, I mean—it's Reid. He's obsessedwith his job. He wouldn't work for a year to get reinstated, then quit after two months."

Hotch nodded. "I suppose you're right," he said lightly.

"And, I mean—whatever's upsetting him, he'll get over it. He'll be back." She nodded. "Did he say why he was leaving? To you, I mean?"

Hotch stiffened. "No."

He could feel her eyes on him. "Any theories?"

Hotch kept his voice level. "You guess is as good as mine," he replied evenly. He needed Morgan on his side before he could try to tell the rest of his team about his "theory."

"Hmm," Prentiss said, then turned towards the window. They spent the rest of the car ride in silence.

Morgan was deep in thought, his entire body feeling numb. Was Reid's leaving really what had triggered his boss' break from reality? He'd made it through Haley's murder smoothly enough. He'd been stabbed and divorced and had his family threatened and gone face to face with serial killers and now….

Had his boss really snapped?

"MORGAN! YOU'RE GOING OFF THE ROAD!"

"Agh!" Morgan swerved away from the guardrail and back onto the highway. JJ stared at him from the seat opposite with wide, fearful eyes.

"Morgan, do you need me to drive?"

Morgan shook his head.

"So you're not going to kill us?"

Morgan rolled his eyes. "I've got it under control."

"Doesn't seem like it." Morgan glanced at JJ; she was taking deep, calming breaths, clutching the armrest.

Morgan sighed. "Hey, I'm sorry," he said.

She swallowed anxiously. "It's okay," she said, "What did Hotch say to you, by the way?"

Morgan stared straight ahead, not responding; she didn't need her vision of their boss shattered as well.

"Morgan? Hello?"

"Hmm, what?" he asked casually, as if he hadn't been listening.

"What did Hotch say to you?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, nothing much. Just talking about the case." That part was true enough, at least.

"Yeah, right." JJ said. "You know I'm a profiler now, Morgan, but even if I wasn't I would be able to tell you were lying."

Morgan chuckled. "Just…something about Reid. Hotch thinks something is going on, that's all."

"Really? Is everything alright?" JJ demanded, her voice tense.

Morgan sighed; he shouldn't have said anything. "Yeah, JJ, it's fine."

"But-"

"Cut it out, JJ, I need to focus on driving," Morgan muttered. He felt slightly guilty for the rudeness; but he didn't want to talk about it.

To his surprise, she laughed. "Well that much is true, at least."

Hotch stared at himself in the mirror; he looked paler than usual. He sighed and began to undo his tie; Morgan hadn't spoken to him all day, and they had made absolutely no progress on the case; not that this was a surprise.

Suddenly, his phone started ringing. He sighed and glanced at it; unknown number. Thinking it might be one of the officers, he answered it.

"Hotchner."

"I told you that your interference would not be appreciated."

Hotch blinked, then glanced at the phone. "Reid?" He knew it was Reid; but the voice sounded distorted, alien.

"If this happens again, there will be a punishment. This is a warning."

"Reid, wait, can't we just—"

The line went dead. Hotch stared at the phone at first in astonishment, then anger.

Then he called Morgan.