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"Good call Agent Reid," Rossi said as he, with a now resigned Adrienne, followed one of the SWAT officers who led Alex Menendez out to the vehicles, the man almost tripping on his fallen trousers although no one seemed in any hurry to relieve him of his embarrassment.

Reid looked around the room, at the satin curtains and fancy bed coverings that were designed to what… he thought, give the acts carried on here less depravity, give them some kind of credibility and respectability. The whole thing made him sick. How could he…? Morgan's voice from the doorway interrupted his thoughts.

"You okay kid?"

"Yeah… yeah, I'm good." Reid replied as he turned for the door. Now it would be left to the CSIs to go through all this to retrieve the physical evidence that would put these people away for the rest of their lives. He wished it could be Catherine and her crew, but he knew that it would be someone different because this was California. He hoped they cared as much as the people he'd met in Las Vegas. "What about the kids?" he asked at last.

"JJ and Emily got them, another girl and a little boy. As soon as we're in cell range we'll get Garcia on finding out who they are, what their story is and where they can go from here." Morgan told him.

"Good," Reid looked around the room again. "Now you know why I never wanted to risk foster care," he told his friend as he exited the room.

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"You're quiet Reid; that's not like you." Morgan said as they were on the road back to Barstow. The prisoners were in the custody of the SWAT team and JJ and Emily had the kids in the other SUV with Hotch and Rossi. The children had told them their names and now Garcia was looking into Leslie Harris and Danny Erickson.

"I'm thinking." Reid replied.

"Well that's a given man. What are you thinking about? It looks like something heavy's weighing on you."

"What's wrong with me Morgan?"

Morgan turned to look at his friend, a man he considered a little brother. "Nothing's wrong with you."

"I've screwed up everything with the team. They're all pissed at me now, all because I couldn't just accept what happened."

"Listen, what happened is not an everyday occurrence and no one can fault you for taking some time to come to terms with it."

"I was thinking back there Morgan, when we were in that room. I was thinking that my dad had left me when I was ten. One time Emily said that she understood that that hurt me but I should remember that he'd given me ten good years before he left." He stopped for a moment and looked out the window only to see his own reflection in the darkness, which was not what he wanted at that moment. "But I couldn't accept that and move on and I harbored this intense hatred for my dad and then, when I started having dreams about Riley Jenkins, my father became this villain. I looked around that room back there and wondered how I ever could have thought that my dad could have done something like that. Just because he disappointed me, I made him into a villain."

"Reid, no one could blame you for that. You suffered a lot after your father left. Believe me; you don't know how many times, in my mind, I've wanted to plow the guy." Morgan said, his eyes not leaving the road.

"I did the same thing with Hotch, JJ and Emily. They only did what they thought was right, but because what they did hurt me, because none of them trusted me, I turned them into these villains that were out to get me."

"Hey," Morgan said, "stop right there. First of all, they didn't tell Rossi or me either, so it's not just you. Secondly, whatever gave you the idea that Hotch doesn't trust you? Look at where we are man! We're in the middle of the damn California desert after catching a bunch of child molesters and saving who knows how many kids from that torture. This whole thing was your idea. Hotch didn't go for any of this because he didn't trust you, just the opposite. You had nothing but a little pink sand, a connection between three people and a hunch. And Hotch came here on that tenuous thread and he trusted your gut instincts because he knows you Reid. He knows who you are and he trusts that, no matter what the evidence around him might say."

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The plane was quiet as they headed back to Las Vegas. Almost everyone was sleeping. Reid knew he needed to but he just couldn't seem to make it happen. They had been met in Barstow by a child service worker, Jolene Mason. She'd made sure the children were admitted to hospital for evaluation, and unfortunately, evidence collection. It made him sick to think that after these children had been failed by the DCFS, leaving them vulnerable to the clutches of the depraved and deviant minds that had gotten hold of them; the justice system would now step in and exact its own pound of flesh. Garcia had provided the worker with all the information she'd been able to dig up on the three kids. Hotch had been harsh with the woman, even though none of this was her fault specifically and she'd seemed to shrink in fear when he told her the FBI would be monitoring these kids from here on out and they had better receive outstanding care in their next home. Hotch's dark eyes had been as cold as he'd ever seen them.

The CSI team from Barstow was likely still working on the headquarters of this horrific enterprise in Cima. He'd noticed the knife that Mitch Lowery had dropped on the floor when Morgan and Prentiss had taken him down. He had no doubt it was what had ripped through his father's flesh and organs and he was sure they'd find his dad's blood on it. It would eventually make its way to a federal courtroom in Las Vegas where it would make the man pay for what had been done to his father. Reid was also sure the bullets in Frank Cumming's gun would match the one that had torn through Lou Anne McDaniels' head. There was nothing he could do about that now. It was all in other hands.

He glanced around the plane at his teammates. Morgan slept with his headphones on and, across from him, JJ was curled into a ball. Rossi was spread out on the bench seat while Prentiss sat across from Hotch, both asleep he noted by the slow, easy rise and fall of their chests which made him think of his father in the ICU and the machine that regulated his breathing. He should call and check on him. He opened his cell and noticed he had a message. "Dr. Reid, call the ICU in Summerlin immediately regarding your father."