Hello my fan-children! Thanks to everyone who is Following this story, or has added it to their Favorites . . .

I should probably say that I DO NOT OWN CRIMINAL MINDS OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS.

Now then, let's get crackin. . .

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Reid POV:

Never in my life have I been in this much pain! The pressure in the cabin as the plane takes off, forces a whimper out of my throat as my head nearly splits in two. As the aircraft settles, I ease my way out of the seat I'm currently occupying, and shuffle my way to the couch. Sitting down with a sigh of relief, I wince when the light from the window shines directly into my eyes. The rest of the team chooses seats and Hotch stands, preparing to begin discussing the case. I let their voices blend together in the haze caused by the skull splitting pain from my headache. Slowly my eyes drift shut, blocking out everything but the thumbing bass in my head.

"Reid? . . . Reid!" My eyes snap open, and I gaze at Hotch, trying to figure out which one of my team called me.

"Yeah?" I question dumbly. Immediately after I say it however, I know I should have said something else as everyone radiates concern.

Morgan's the first to break the incredibly awkward silence. "We wanted to know what you think . . ."

I stare at him, completely lost. What I think? What I think is that my head hurts so bad I could curl into a tiny ball and hibernate for several years. That though, is clearly not the right answer, so I settle for the obvious. "What I think about what?"

They all stare at me like I've sprouted a second head. "About the case Reid . . . Are you okay kid?" Morgan repeats the question from earlier, but this time I know that he won't take 'I'm fine' as an answer. And even if Morgan would accept that, the rest of the team, namely Hotch, would demand honesty.

"Yeah Morgan, I've just got a slight headache is all; nothing to worry about." I flash them what I hope is a reassuring grin, and proceed to open my copy of the case file. Clearing my throat, I try to get them back on topic, "Well, clearly the unsub has an issue with women, disposing of them in a dumpster and all; sexual assault would suggest a male, one with enough strength to easily hoist these girls into a tall dumpster . . ." I trail off and Emily nods her head thoughtfully, her brow scrunching in sudden confusion.

"You're right, the disposal would suggest problems with women, but the bodies themselves, other than the sexual assault, were pristine. Both girls had their fingernails clipped and painted, and their hair was brushed. Those signs would point to regret, or like what a female would do." The team all mutters agreement, and quickly begin discussing possible reasons for the oddities in the MO. Carefully, I lean my throbbing head back against the seat, and shield my eyes from the sunlight coming through the window.

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I must have fallen asleep at some point, because when I open my eyes, we only have about a half-hour before landing. I rub my forehead lightly, glad that the pain has died down for the moment. JJ pauses in front of me, gently smiling at me, and hands me a large mug of coffee. I accept it with a small nod. "Does it have- . . ."

"Three tablespoons of sugar." She cuts me off with a quiet laugh, and ruffles my hair as she continues to her seat. I continue sitting there, slowly sipping my 'syrup', and watching the rest of the team do various things. Morgan has his headphones in, his head bobbing to the beat of the music; Hotch is his usual boss-like self, studiously going over case files and consults; Prentiss is sleeping, her hair flung wildly across her face, mouth hanging open; Rossi has his eyes closed though I know he's not sleeping, his hands folded primly in his lap; Finally, JJ is engrossed in a book, probably some sordid romance novel.

At last the seatbelt lights come on, and we prepare for landing. As the plane begins to descend, the pressure in my head starts to build again; my eyes clinch tightly against the pain worming its way back inside my skull. Luckily, before the pain becomes unbearable, we hit the landing strip, and my headache subsides into merely a dull roar. Unclenching my eyes, I find Morgan staring intently at me; I quickly avert my gaze, just wanting to be left alone. I know it won't last long, but momentary peace is all I ask for.

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Morgan POV:

As we exit the jet, I notice pretty boy putting sunglasses on despite the fact that it's nearly 7pm and the sky is already getting dark. A frown tugs at my lips, and I turn away before he notices that I've been staring. I won't bring it up yet, but tonight when we assign room partners, I'm gonna pick him and make him tell me what's wrong; that's a promise. Heaving a sigh, we head for the airport's rental car lot.

After Hotch pays for the use of three black SUV's, we pile in and drive to the police station. Hotch is riding with me, and I keep giving him sideways glances. Finally he fixes his gaze on me. "Yes Morgan? What is it?" His tone is slightly exasperated, but I can't say I blame him with the way I've been watching him.

"Yeah, uh, Hotch . . . listen man, I think . . . I think something's wrong with Reid . . ." I let the sentence hang, waiting for some kind of reaction. Hotch doesn't say anything, instead he just gives his head a slight nod, whether in agreement or acknowledgement I can't tell. He stares straight ahead for several minutes during which I don't speak for fear of interrupting his thoughts. Then he looks at me with his signature 'Hotch' look.

"I trust your judgment. If it turns out to be something that could potentially interfere with his work, then I trust that you'll tell me." His face is stern, but I can see concern reflected in his steady gaze. I set my jaw and give a sharp nod; I'll find out tonight.

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Yay! Second chapter already ;) Please 'Reid' and review.

I may not be able to update very often, but I will definitely update AT LEAST once a week