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A/n I didn't realize that the site doesn't allow certain characters for scene breaks. So I put in the single line available for the documents here. I hope the breaks stay in place after the updates. Thank you all for your kind reviews and constructive criticism. This chapter should explain more of Reid's reaction to his father's communication

Love never Fades

"Come in…" Hotch called out at the tap on his door.

"Hotch!" Morgan hurried into the room. "We have a bit of a problem."

Hotch sighed, "What is it Morgan?" He sat back in his chair and gave his full attention to the agent.

Morgan rubbed his hand over his baldhead. Ever since Morgan had taken over for him during the Foyet case, he had seen a new control in the agents bearing. That control seemed to be hanging on by a frayed thread.

Now what?

"Reid left!" Morgan blurted out suddenly.

Hotch pushed down the annoyance in his gut. Reid never just left in the middle of the day, but lately with his injured leg, he'd had doctor's appointments and PT appointments at odd times. Morgan was well aware of those facts.

"It's not like Reid hasn't been leaving at odd times lately. He has an injury that nearly cost him his leg."

"I know that Hotch. This isn't about a doctor's appointment he forgot. He looked like someone died. "

"Tell me what happened." Hotch forced a calm he couldn't feel in his heart into his voice.

"Warren brought an overnight mail delivery envelope up to him. Reid read it, went white as a sheet and then he just left."

"Did he say anything?"

"No! He just said he had to get out of here. He looked bad Hotch. We should go after him!"

"I'll take care of it."

"But Hotch, don't you think we should -"

"I said… I'll take care of it."

Hotch made his eyes stay on Morgan's until the other man looked away. "If you're done with you report, I need it on my desk before you leave."

"Hotch!"

"I said I'd deal with it Morgan."

Morgan left, coming close to slamming Hotch's door as he stepped out, but not quite following through with it. Hotch sat back in his chair feeling the headache jacking up behind his head.

He pulled out his phone and opened it. Reid's number went straight to voice mail, which sent irritation curdling into his stomach. At this rate, he'd end up with the ulcer his doctor had been threatening him with if he didn't get a handle on his stress.

"Reid… Why did you turn off your phone? Call me back as soon as you get this message."

He slapped the phone shut and went out to the bullpen. He should have Morgan go check out Reid's apartment, but he'd promised Reid he'd trust him after the young agent had made the effort to get clean from his addiction. Perhaps he should go look at the letter his agent had received and find out what had made Reid just leave his desk without telling anyone.

He looked out over the busy bullpen. Everyone was about the tasks except for Morgan and Emily. They stood staring at the envelope on Reid's desk as though it were a snake poised to strike. He met Emily's eyes and she shrugged her shoulders. He raised an eyebrow and she nodded.

Moments later, he'd returned to his desk and Emily was knocking on his door. "Hotch?"

"I want you to go to Reid's apartment and make sure he's okay."

"Why me?"

"Reid confides in you. You've become close friends since Colorado. I think sending Morgan would be a bad idea at this point."

"Are you sure you want me to go barge in on him?"

"He ran out of here without telling anyone where he went. I think that's a cry for help. Don't you?"

She nodded. "I'll go right now."

"Just find out what you can. Don't push too hard."

"I won't," she assured him.

Reid opened the door to his apartment. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten there. It was probably a good idea he'd taken the train to work and back.

His hands shook badly, as they had when he'd taken his last hit of Dilaudid. He stood just inside the door trying to make his breathing go back to normal. His head felt dizzy as though he'd run all the way home from Quantico at top speed. Pain pounded in his temples like spikes ramming into his brain. For the first time in months, he knew that if he had a syringe and a familiar little glass bottle, he wouldn't hesitate. The sting of the needle and the rush of the drug would wash away the pain.

He rushed into his bedroom and pulled open the doors to the closet. He rummaged through storage containers and through shoeboxes. Nothing… He checked under the bed, in his dresser under a stack of sweater vests. He couldn't find one bottle or syringe. His bathroom, including the tank and the inside of the cabinets were clean. He limped badly by the time he climbed up the stepladder to look inside the cover on the light in the middle of the ceiling. His sweep of the apartment a year ago to get rid of all his stash had truly been effective.

What are you doing?

He stopped and stared at the wall opposite the ladder. Yes… What was he doing? Just because his father had set off horrible memories with the letter, was no reason to undo over a year of work.

If you let your father do this to you, he wins.

He shut the cabinet door and went back to the living room. For once, his inner voice was right. There were other ways to get his mind off his troubles.

Emily parked her car in the visitor parking at Reid's apartment complex. She sat for a minute looking around the quiet Georgetown neighborhood. He only lived a few blocks from the University, which hadn't surprised her. He loved school almost as much as he loved profiling.

When she reached his door on the third floor, she heard the sweet tones of a single violin from behind the walls. It was difficult to know which person played, but she thought it might come from inside Reid's apartment. Well he liked classical music, so that made sense. At least she knew he was home. Some of the worry knots in her gut smoothed out as she rapped on his door and waited.

He didn't acknowledge her. She knocked again, a little harder and louder this time. No one came to the door. She pounded a third time successfully resisting the urge to yell "I know you're in there." He abruptly opened the door and confronted her.

"I see Hotch sent you after me. Good idea!" He said sarcastically.

"We're worried about you Reid."

"Then by all means why don't you come on in."

He stepped back and she stepped into a painfully neat living room with a huge bookcase as the focal point. The sofa, threadbare and an unfortunate shade of faded green sat against the far wall. A violin sat in an open case on a stand in the far corner of the room as though someone had just been playing. Wait…

"What do you want?"

"Can I sit down for a minute?"

"I don't care."

She sat, "Don't get petulant with me Reid. You just pick up and leave without telling anyone and when we get concerned, you get testy. You know you have to tell Hotch when you have to leave for an emergency. You can't just walk out like that."

"Don't quote regulations to me. I know them better than you do."

"I didn't come here to fight with you."

He stood at the other end of the room next to the door. She ignored the obvious hint and will of her 'host,' so he sat in the ragged burnt orange upholstered easy chair.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I know…"

"Then go away."

"You can be as mean as you want Reid. I'm not leaving here until you explain yourself. I won't tell anyone unless you want me too."

He leaned forward with his hands hanging down between his knees. "The letter was from my father. It was like deja vu all over again. All I could think about was the letter he wrote to my mother the day he left us for good. He says he needs my help. How can he ask me for help?"

He stood up and began to pace back and forth across the floor like a caged animal. "He sent me some kind of file written in this code we used to use when I was a kid. I made it up Emily. We used to have fun, playing word games and puzzles. Why did he have to throw all that back in my face now? He left me a message on my phone too. He said he's going to Reno and he needs my help with something important. I can't take this. I'm finally get my life back together and he has come back in and ruin everything."

She stood and went to the violin. "How long have you been playing?"

He sighed and his shoulders dropped. "Okay… We'll play the game. I started playing when I was seventeen."

"It's beautiful!"

A ghost of a smile flitted over his face like a butterfly in summer flowers. "My mother bought it for me in a very rare lucid moment. She loved the violin. I was considering getting into music therapy to help her but…" The smile faltered on his lips.

"I heard you playing. You're very good."

"I almost threw it out a dozen times because it reminds me of her, but I kept it every time because it reminds me of her.

"I'm sorry Reid."

"It's not your fault. Can we sit please?"

She followed him back to the couch. "I'm sorry I snapped at you." He said.

"It's okay…"

"I don't know why I'm so upset by all of this. I thought we were okay. I mean… I thought I'd let go of some of the anger. I know I'll never fully forgive him for leaving me alone with my mother. Then I get this plea in the mail and on the phone and I just don't know what to do. Most of me wants to leave him to figure it out on his own."

"But part of you wants to help him because he's your dad and you love him despite him abandoning you."

"I don't love him Emily. That died in me a long time ago."

"I don't believe that Reid."

He sat there staring at her while she watched his face go through pain, anger and a sorrow that made her hands go clammy. "I wish I did." He said softly. "I want to hate him, but I can't especially after what happened last year. When he explained to me what he'd done to keep my mother safe, I felt like I was ten again and everything was the way it was before he left. He's a good man Emily. What he did for Lou Jenkins ate at him. It would've eaten away at me too. Who's to say that I wouldn't have done the same thing?"

"I know you wouldn't have abandoned your family that way."

"You don't know that Emily. Look at what happened to Hotch. He lost his family before Foyet came along because of his devotion to our job. We all have our breaking points Emily."

"I know that Reid. I just don't think you'd leave your family or drive them away."

"It doesn't matter now. I don't want to argue with you about this. I need to find out what's going on with my dad."

"Okay…"

She pulled a large manila envelope out of her bag. "I grabbed this from your desk. I figured you wouldn't want anyone looking through it."

He snatched it out of her hands. "Did you look at it?"

"I only saw a few characters as I was putting it away. I didn't try to read it."

"It's in code." He reminded her. He slapped it down on the battered wooden coffee table. "I have to go to Las Vegas."

William sat with his back against the dirt walls. The heat from the desert seeped into the darkness, like smoke through brick, in a house fire. Although the sand and pebbles offered protection from the burning sun, it was still warm enough to be uncomfortable.

Sweat plopped off his forehead and onto his bare legs. His water had long ago run out and his tongue felt like sandpaper. He tried to think about anything but the aching thirst in his throat. He had no watch and no light to mark the passage of time, but if felt like weeks since the trap door had opened.

He put back his head and looked up in the direction of the trap door as though he could make it open by sheer force of will. He waited, trying to count off the seconds, but soon lost track of the numbers. If Spencer were here, he'd never lose track of counting the seconds.

He dropped his head and sighed. He'd always been jealous of his son's abilities and talents. It had taken him years and some thousands on therapy to admit that he'd hated the way Dianna and Spencer had lived in their own world She'd always understood their son. He'd only wanted to make Spencer more normal.

"I'm sorry," He whispered in a raspy voice. "I always loved you Spencer."

He had to get out of this so he could try to make it up to Spencer. The son had truly outstripped the father and it was okay. Finally, it was okay.

He jerked in surprise when the trapdoor opened and bright light streamed down into his prison. He squinted away from the voice and a face he couldn't make out.

"I know all your secrets Mr. Reid. I know all about your ex-wife and your son." The voice whispered down to him. "Was it worth it?"

"Touch them and I'll kill you with my bare hands."

"Hmm… That's a lot of emotion for a woman you divorced, and left to rot in an insane asylum, all alone. Didn't you abandon your son when he was ten?"

William didn't respond.

"Just remember that I can get my hands on either of them whenever I want. Why don't you think about that for a while? We'll talk again soon."