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A/N: Thanks to all those who have taken the time to read and review.

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Reid opened his eyes when he heard the steward announcing that everyone should fasten their seatbelts in preparation for landing in Las Vegas. He rubbed his eyes, still a little groggy from sleep. He'd slept the last time he'd come here too. But this time, nothing was a dream. His father was severely injured and he had to make life and death decisions regarding that. He could hear some of the revelers further back in the plane, glad to have finally reached 'sin city' where they could let go of their ordinary personas and be whatever they wanted, behave however they wanted, because what happened in Vegas, stayed in Vegas.

If only that were true, he told himself as he dutifully put his seat in its upright position. What happened to him in Las Vegas, what he'd endured here, had followed him everywhere he went, and would continue for the rest of his life. That was the thing these tourists forgot in all the excitement of the gambling and the flashy shows; that there was a life in Las Vegas. People actually lived there, went to school, worked, raised children or, in his case, didn't raise children. He felt the plane make its gradual descent until the wheels hitting the ground told him they'd landed. However he felt about it, he was home.

Reid's cell rang just as he got into the airport after deplaning. He looked at the call display. Of course, Garcia would know the moment they landed, "Hey Garcia."

"Hey Reid, how you holding up sweetcheeks?"

"I'm fine, I just got off the plane but I'm sure you knew that."

"Yeah, you know your goddess knows everything. I reserved you a rental car so you just have to go and pick it up. You're booked at the JW Marriott Resort and Spa, it's the closest hotel to the hospital," he heard in his cell.

"Thanks Garcia, you're the best," he told her.

She giggled through his phone. "There you go again, proving just how smart you are." Reid smiled at her remark. She could always make him smile, make any of them smile. She was the best gift any of them could have in the dark world they faced on a daily basis. "You've got me on speed dial. You know I'm here if you need anything. My love is strong. Now go see about your dad."

"Garcia, how are they doing on the case? Have they made any progress in finding Kimberly?"

"Oh no you don't, we are not going there. You go see to your dad. That's what you do now. You leave Kimberly to us. That's an order from your goddess," she said sternly.

"Okay, but if I can do anything, call me," he said.

"Good bye sweetcheeks," he heard before the call on the other end ended abruptly.

The airport concourse wasn't too busy, but it was five in the morning so that made sense. Okay, he said to himself, rental car, no he reorganized his thoughts; he needed to get things in order of importance; coffee first, then the rental car.

Feeling a little rejuvenated after his caffeine fix, he'd driven the twelve miles to the Summerlin Hospital Medical Centre. The place was relatively quiet, but then it was six in the morning. He made his way, as directed by the woman at the front desk, to the ICU and picked up the phone outside as a sign instructed. He gave his name and the patient he wished to see to the voice on the other end, and after a momentary pause, was told someone would let him in shortly. He sat on one of the rather comfortable chairs in the waiting area and in a very few minutes the door opened.

"Dr. Reid?" A woman with short dark hair wearing burgundy colored scrubs inquired.

"Yes," Reid stood and entered the ICU as the woman held the door open.

"I'm Stacy. I've been looking after your dad. There's no real change in his condition," she continued as she led him into the area where patients were cared for. They stopped at the third cubicle.

Reid looked at his dad and all the medical paraphernalia that surrounded him. He knew what everything was and its function, but that didn't make it any less intimidating. Sometimes he thought ignorance might be better. As many as eight IVs ran into his two arms, one, he noted by the dark red color, was blood. The endotracheal tube in his mouth and fastened to him with some kind of band and tape was hooked up to a ventilator that made a sound every few seconds as a breath was delivered and his father's chest rose accordingly. A bag hanging at the end of the bed holding clear yellow liquid tinged with red gave evidence to the fact, that although one of his kidneys had been damaged, the other was working well. He noticed tiny accordion type containers, appearing out from underneath his dad's hospital gown.

"Those are hemovacs," Stacy said noting his eyes on the containers, "they just…"

"Drain fluid from the wounds, yeah, I know." Reid replied.

"Of course, I forgot, you're a doctor," the nurse said.

"I'm not a medical doctor," Reid told her. "I just read a lot."

Okay, Stacy thought, this guy sits around in his spare time and reads about hemovacs. That's not too strange. "You can go in and sit in the chair if you like. Dr. Sutton's not here right now. He won't be in until about eight. I can get Dr. du Plooy if you'd like to talk to a doctor."

"No, that's okay. Dr. Sutton explained everything to me." Reid replied, but he still made no movement toward the bed. "Can he hear? Do you know if he can hear? Sometimes they say coma patients can hear."

"I don't know. We've had some people come out of comas and say they've heard every word and some come out with no memory of the time they were in the coma. I always talk to my patients on the assumption that they can hear me. So if you want to talk to your dad, it's fine. I think it's better to assume that they can, than that they can't."

Reid moved closer to the figure in the bed and sat in the chair, placing his messenger bag on the floor beside him. Being closer he could now see his father's face more clearly, the bruising and swelling, the finger marks at his neck. He noted cuts on his arms and hands. Defensive wounds, his dad had tried to fight off his attacker. Had they taken fingernail scrapings, he wondered. His father hadn't been a subject of opportunity for this attacker, not the victim of a random mugging or carjacking. He'd been attacked in his own back yard. Someone specifically had wanted William Reid dead. The question was why?

"H…hi dad," he said quietly.