Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and all its associated characters are property to CBS and no profit is being made from this story.

Chapter Twenty-One: Symptoms of Insanity

The DSM- IV Criteria for someone to be classified as schizophrenic- Patient must have two or more of the symptoms present, each for at least a month in duration, in order for a diagnosis of schizophrenia to be made:

Delusions

Hallucinations

Disorganized Speech (i.e. frequent derailment, incoherency)

Grossly disorganized or catatonic behavior

Negative symptoms (i.e. affective flattening, alogia, avolition)

"Rossi! Are you alright?" Garcia asked as she ran into the room and plopped down in a chair beside his bed, clasping her hands around him and trying to suppress the tears that threatened to spill through her eyes. She had received a call from Morgan, telling her to head straight up to Rossi's room, where they were all awaiting the doctor to hear Reid's suspected prognosis. Her nerves were on edge and having to see even more of her teammates so damaged was most definitely not helping.

She had fussed over Morgan.

She had cooed over Emily.

She hadn't been able to see Reid.

So that left only Rossi on her list...

"I stopped by a store and bought some cookies. Now, I know they're not homemade and are cooked on the racks of cold, unfeeling industrial ovens devoid of love, but I didn't have time to bake any so this will do have to do until then," she said, producing two boxes of chocolate chip cookies. She handed one to Rossi after opening it and fixed him with a motherly look which made him squirm uncomfortably.

She had to have been a decade younger than him at the least.

It was not okay for her to treat him like her son.

But still, the gesture was kind and he thanked her, silently laughing at her Mother Hen attributes. He bit into a cookie, smiling at the sweet taste.

"For a cookie devoid of love, it's pretty delicious," he said with a chuckle.

She smiled at him before looking over to JJ, practically falling off her seat with worry. If they didn't tell her what happened with Reid in the next ten seconds, fur was going to fly and her furry little friends wouldn't be so furry.

"Tell me now. Please, I need to know," she said, biting her lip as she prepared herself for what was going to be said. Preparing herself for the worst, despite her better want.

"We're not sure exactly what Wright and Varney were trying to do, but they've managed to convince Reid that he..." JJ looked at her teammates, trying to find the proper way to explain such a precarious situation. Every way just seemed too...too blunt. But with a sigh, she decided to say it, regardless of how frank it sounded. "They convinced him that he is a paranoid schizophrenic and that we- his team- are a delusion." She looked down at the ground when she finished, unable to see the look in Garcia's eyes at the news.

Her face had fallen immediately, purple lips frowning and green shadowed eyes glittering. Her brows were furrowed, not fully believing what JJ had told her. Reid couldn't be...That couldn't happen to him! He was Reid! He was so innocent and...how? How did that happen?

"Garcia."

She was pulled from her thoughts by the cool voice of her boss, entering the room with a disheveled look to him. Well, as disheveled as Hotch could look. He always seemed to be almost unnaturally impeccable, all the time.

"I ran into Dr. Ostheim on my way up here. He'll be here in a couple minutes," he said, walking straight past everyone and situating himself in the chair in the far corner. He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair and place his chin in his hand, staring down at the ground in rumination, seemingly unaware of the team staring at him.

"Um, Hotch...you okay?" Morgan asked, knitting his brow as he slowly folded his arms over his chest, careful not to irritate the wound on his shoulder.

He shook himself, as though Morgan's words brought him back to reality. "Um...yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," he said, looking around the room. Before the team could call his bluff and question him further, the door opened and Dr. Ostheim entered, his clipboard with him. He smiled briefly at the group, a fleeting overwhelmed look crossing his face as the many eyes turned to him, demanding answers.

"Hello," he said, then rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Where should we start?"

"What happened to him?" Hotch asked quietly, his dark eyes fixing an unsettling look on the doctor. "What did they do do him? Physically?"

Dr. Ostheim bit his lips and raised his brows as he flipped through his stack of paper, settling on one and running the tip of his finger down the page. "Um, let's see. Broken leg, we had to reset it as it had gotten re-broken several times. He had a sprained wrist. A bullet wound in his chest," he looked up here and said, "If nothing else, the fact that Andrew Wright was a trained medical doctor probably saved his life. It didn't hit any major organs or arteries, but it was still a very ugh...efficient shot. Let's see, he had three fingernails forcibly removed. A very deep stab wound in his right thigh- we had to clean and restitch this as it had become mildly infected. He also had some very...messy stab wounds in his left thigh, along with several long slits created by a blade. He had broken ribs, a broken hip bone. And um..." He bit his lip, looking over to Hotch, as if wanting permission before saying the last thing on the list.

"And what?" Morgan prompted.

He sighed. "He had been brutally raped. There is a disturbingly large amount of tearing and scarring in his anal passage, which indicates frequent abuse. Near daily," he said quietly, looking to the floor.

Garcia took a sharp intake of air as she covered her mouth with both hands, stifling her tears. She didn't think it would be this bad! How come no one prepared her for this? Didn't they realize that she wasn't as used to these crimes as they were? Didn't they realize she had a hard enough time knowing this happened to people she didn't know, let alone her Reid?

She wasn't the only one crying, though. JJ's cheeks were red and wet, and Emily's eyes were glistening with tears. Morgan's fists and jaws clenched violently as his eyes flared with anger, and Rossi stared down at the white blanket thrown over him, his dark eyes misted over. Hotch just hid his face from view, glaring holes into the floor.

"What were the results of his Psych. Eval?" he asked suddenly, not looking away from the floor.

Dr. Ostheim flipped through the paper once more as he began to speak, trying to find the specifics. "He not only thinks that he is delusional and hallucinating, but he actually is hallucinating, it seems," he said, frowning.

"What do you mean?" Morgan asked, his voice harsher than he meant for it to be. "Wright had convinced him we were a delusion, we know that-"

"No, Agent Morgan. He's actually hallucinating. It's too early to tell for sure, but I think he's suffering from a psychotic episode. We won't know for certain until we can get Andrew to speak, but I think he was using his torture as a form of cognitive reinforcement- if Reid denied his claims that he was insane, he would hurt him. Eventually, his mind made the connection. Sanity equals pain, pain equals poor health. The brain ultimately strives to protect itself. So, to keep Reid alive, it submitted to what Andrew was telling him. Combined with the stress, he lapsed into a severe major depressive episode with psychotic features," he explained.

"I've only spoken to him twice, not including the time the nurse startled him by turning the light off, and from what I've gathered, he's been suffering from auditory and visual hallucinations. I visited him on my way up here, and asked about the incident with the nurse. It took some time, but eventually I coaxed him into saying that he saw his father in the room, yelling at him. Well, obviously, his father wasn't in the room. He hallucinated him."

"Can you...can you help him?" Garcia asked, wiping away some tears and streaks of eyeliner.

Dr. Ostheim inhaled deeply, placing his clipboard down on the small dresser as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's a very...difficult situation. Generally with delusional and hallucinating patients, it's best to play along with them. They tend to become very defensive when you try to convince them otherwise. Which is why..." he bit his lip, casting his eyes down to the floor. "I'm going to have to ask you all to not visit him."

"What?" the group all said simultaneously, with the exception of Hotch who looked up, his eyes boring into the doctor.

"How can you tell us not to visit him? He's our friend!" Morgan argued, hands flying to his hips.

"He needs us!" Garcia pleaded tearfully.

Dr. Ostheim shrugged his shoulders, frowning deeply. "I'm sorry. But it's my professional opinion-"

"Well, it's my professional opinion that he's hurt and needs his family!" Morgan said.

"He's right."

Everyone turned to face Hotch, their eyebrows raised and their jaws slacked. Did he really just tell them to not visit Reid? To forget about him? Leave him alone in a hospital for God knew how long?

"Hotch...we can't," Emily said, shaking her head and wincing when her head throbbed.

He sighed, sitting back in his seat. "Reid won't be able to work through his hallucinations if they're constantly sitting by his bed giving him cookies," he said and Garcia huffed, insulted as she grabbed the second box of cookies and threw it in her bag, mumbling about how he would receive none. "Having us visit him will only stress him out. The real hallucinations can be dealt with by medication and therapy, but if he saw us everyday, we would hold him back. He won't be able to accept the fact that we're real until he realizes that Wright was playing mind games with him. And he is not in current mental state for that realization to be possible.

"We need to leave him alone for him to get better," Hotch added, internally wincing at the betrayed looks his team was giving him. He didn't like it any more than they did, but he understood the doctor's intentions. He wanted Reid to get better more than he wanted to visit him.

Sensing the tension in the room, Dr. Ostheim cleared his throat and added, "He will stay here for two weeks, at the very least. We will stabilize his physical conditions and try to get a head start on his psychiatric treatment. After the two weeks, or more, depending on how healthy we can get him, he will be transferred to a psychiatric hospital for long-term care. What happens from that point is, unfortunately, not something I can predict. He will be assigned a slew of personal care doctors- ranging from individual counselors, psychiatric doctors, psychologists and so on. They will hold treatment team meetings and, if they decide that he can have visitors, then you can visit him as you please. We'll try our best to find a care center near Quantico, though we can't guarantee that he'll have a bed available for him in the nearest one."

The team nodded, dismal and displeased with the conditions the doctor set for them. "Well, if there aren't any questions for me, I have some paperwork I need to attend to. I will call you if anything comes up."

He turned and left the room, but realized when the door opened once more that someone had followed him.

"Can I...can I ask you a question?" JJ said, grabbing the extra fabric of Dr. Ostheim's sleeve as she followed him down the hall. He turned to her, his eyes looking at her sympathetically as he nodded.

"I know I may not have the same psychology training as teammates, but one thing I know is that um...one theory to ugh...schizophrenia is that someone is born with the genetic makeup for it and then something...an outside force...can trigger it. That someone can live their whole lives with schizophrenia but never suffering from it if it isn't triggered before they turn thirty." She stopped speaking, fumbling over her words as she tried to articulate her thoughts but found she was unable to. Her throat was closing up and her eyes stung. She couldn't ask the question. She was afraid of the answer.

Thankfully, Dr. Ostheim understood her train of thought.

"Are you asking me if this trauma triggered a dormant gene for schizophrenia in Spencer?" he asked, a brow raised. Hesitantly, she nodded, preparing herself for whatever his response was: good news or bad news.

But dear Lord, did she want it to be good news.

"While that is true, I don't think that is the case with Spencer," he said.

She sighed audibly in relief, smiling slightly. "Can you...How can you be sure, though?" she asked, hoping she wasn't jinxing it by continually talking about it.

"Well, generally, there are three stages of schizophrenia. Prodromal, active and residual. The prodromal phase is where it becomes obvious that something is off, though not necessarily enough for people to believe schizophrenia to be the cause. Since Reid didn't have prodromal phase- least, not that I know of- the chances of it being schizophrenia are slim. Plus, he doesn't match all of the criteria, from what I can tell. His delusions are only perceived, so really he is only suffering from hallucinations. His speech and motor functioning are fine, and he doesn't seem to have too many mood disturbances. But really, that's more of a precipitating side effect from the torture. No anhedonia or alogia which is common in schizophrenic patients." He smiled wide at her, placing a strong hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry. Nothing should be permanently wrong with him. The longest lasting thing we'll see from him will probably be PTSD once we can get him lucid," he said and she nearly cried at his words. He was going to be okay! It would take awhile, but he would be okay! She hadn't even realized that she reached out to hug him until she felt him stiffen beneath her touch. She immediately jumped back, blushing fiercely.

"I...I'm sorry. I was just...happy," she said, ducking her head.

He chuckled. "Don't worry about it. I understand how emotional this stuff can be," he smiled and turned to leave, but stopped, turning back around with a look of mild concern on his face. "Not to pry or anything, but, as a psychologist, I feel the need to tell you that your boss is taking this quite personally."

She furrowed her brows. "Hotch? He's always like that when he's upset. Becomes detached. Well, more detached than usual," she said.

He shook his head. "No, I mean...he's blaming himself for this."

She opened her mouth, only to close it. Why would he blame himself? It wasn't his fault. If it was anyone's fault it was hers...

"I didn't want to say anything at first. I mean, you're all profilers; it would be insulting if I told you what you should already know. But, I think everyone's too upset right now to really focus on each other. And Agent Morgan looked about ready to tear his eyes out," he said, chuckling nervously. "Sometimes, it takes an outside viewer for people to realize stuff when they're going through something."

"Ugh, yeah, no, thanks," she said, too distracted by her own thoughts now. Come to think of it, he did seem more reserved than usual. When Hotch was upset, he made irrational decisions do to his level of distractedness. But he seemed almost...too rational. It seemed like he was relying on logic to get him through this.

Was he so ready to agree with the doctor because he thought it was best for Reid, or because it was best for him? Did he see it as an excuse? A reason to not have to visit the man he was convinced he nearly killed?

No, he wouldn't take the guilt for this. He was far too analytical, far too three dimensional in his thinking. He, of all people, would know that there were a million things that lead to Reid getting to this man. With him not being one of them.

"JJ," Hotch said, startling her. She looked to him as he approached her, acting very much like someone who had somewhere important to be. "Call Reid's mom, let her know everything the doctor said." He continued to walk away, barely even pausing in his steps when he spoke to her.

"Isn't that your job?" she asked, mentally reprimanding herself the second the words left her mouth. That sounded thoroughly rude.

But he just called over his shoulder, slowing down but not stopping, as he answered, "Turns out I'm not good at it."

Before she even had a chance to question him, he disappeared into an elevator. Sighing impatiently, she grabbed her cell phone and searched through her contacts, hitting send when she saw the name 'L. V. Sanitarium'.

xXx

"I am so ready for today's agenda," Morgan said with a vindictive smile, rubbing his hands together as he entered the room. It had been a week since Reid was admitted into the hospital, and a day since Rossi, Varney and Wright were discharged. With everything cleared and out of the way, they were ready to begin their interrogations and complete the profiles for their records.

But they were all out of sorts. Despite being told that they could not visit Reid, they still sat outside his room every night, taking shifts. They never discussed it, nor planned it. It was more of an unspoken agreement between them all. Rossi and Emily would start, giving coffee too JJ and Hotch who took their place, who would then return the favor with Garcia and Morgan. It worked well, and at least made them feel like they were doing something for Reid.

But now that the UnSubs were out, they had to return to their work life, entering the station for the first real time in a week. And Morgan was very much looking forward to the interrogation.

"Morgan, have you noticed anything off about Hotch, lately?" JJ asked, avoiding his eyes as she stirred her spoon absentmindedly through her coffee.

"Not really. I mean, he's been more distant but you now how he gets when he's upset," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

She bit her lip, looking at the door to make sure no one else was coming through before leaning forward and saying in a whisper, "When I called Reid's mom to tell her what the doctor had said, she started talking about how she screamed at the last agent who called, our boss. She kept going on and on that it was his fault Reid got captured. Do you...do you think he took what she said to heart and thinks it's all his fault?"

He chuckled slightly, sitting down in his seat. "JJ, Hotch isn't like that. He's got a good head on his shoulders and he wouldn't think something so unreasonable," he said, clearing his throat slightly. If anyone should feel guilt...

He shook his head. Now wasn't the time for retrospection. No was the time to prepare to interview Varney and Wright. The question was, which one did he want to question? They were being questioned in roughly the same time slots, so he probably wouldn't be able to get a go at both. So who...

"Morgan, I need to speak with you," Hotch said, entering the room and holding the door open for him to leave.

"What about, Hotch?" he asked.

His dark eyes shifted to JJ. "I think it's best we discuss this in private," he finally said, and Morgan felt his heart plummet. What was going on? What did he want to tell him? It wasn't anything regarding Reid- he wouldn't have given JJ that sideways look. So was it about him? What did he do?

"Ugh, okay," he said, slowly rising from his chair and following the man, who lead him to a small, more private board room. This room contained only one, narrow table and four chairs, a small whiteboard hanging from the wall. Hotch gestured for him to take a seat and, reluctantly, he did so.

When he Hotch remained standing, the profiler in him took charge.

'I'm in trouble,' he thought. Hotch was standing while he was sitting. He was trying to give the air of dominance and superiority. He was preparing to yell at Morgan and put him in his place. But what had he done?

"Morgan, I have some...not so good news," he began, and Morgan's stomach dropped. He was in a lot of trouble.

"What is it? Just say it, Hotch," he urged, swallowing as he rubbed his hands together. Even if he was in trouble, he much preferred the bad news to be about him instead of about Reid. He didn't think Reid could survive any more bad news.

Hotch sighed and walked in a line, up and down the front of the room. "Morgan, from what Rossi and Emily told me about the day we went and rescued Reid, you rushed in to get to him when he screamed," he said, looking at him with harsh, yet sad eyes.

"Yeah. And?" he asked, not quite seeing his point. So he had gotten worried about Reid. He didn't understand what was so bad about that. But then his mind pulled out images from that day, the memories sitting in the forefront of his mind. He had heard the scream and...ran...he...pushed Rossi and ran. Was he getting yelled out for pushing Rossi? That hardly seemed worthy of this sort of secrecy.

"Morgan, you pushed Rossi out of the way, resulting in Rossi losing his grip on Varney, and then Emily getting distracted and Wright knocking her out and then shooting Rossi." He stopped pacing, turning to face Morgan fully as he shook his head. "Morgan, you let your emotions get the best of you. And because of that, two agents were taken down, and two UnSubs got away."

What? He couldn't really have been responsible for all that, could he? He hadn't been thinking, just acting. But it wasn't his fault that all of that occurred. He had just been trying to get to Reid...

"I...didn't mean to, Hotch," he said. Did Rossi and Emily blame him? They didn't seem upset. But what if they were? He suddenly felt an extremely strong sense of regret overcome him.

"I know you didn't mean to. But the fact remains that you did," he said, rubbing his temple. He was really distressed about this. Did he blame Morgan? Was he going to tell him he wanted him to step down from the team? That he no longer trusted him? He was about to argue, defend his case, when Hotch started speaking again.

"I had to file a report. Agents were hurt. I had to tell Strauss how it happened. I supported you to the best of my ability, but you...you put our team at jeopardy. There were only so many strings I could pull," he said quietly and Morgan felt everything stop.

Time stopped.

The earth stopped.

The blood in his veins stopped.

Everything.

Just.

Stopped.

He was being fired. Five seconds. Five seconds he had let his guard down, let his impulses run rampant. And he was going to lose his job because of those five seconds.

"No, Hotch. I...I can't...This...this is my family," he said, disliking the desperate way his voice heightened but too upset to care. It never occurred to him how close he was to them, how much he needed them until they were about to be taken away. They couldn't be taken away from him. "You can't...can't fire-"

"Morgan, we're not going to fire you," he said. His shoulders suddenly felt very light. He could breathe again. He was safe. His family was safe.

"You're being suspended."

His head shot up. "What?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"You're being suspended. For a year. I'm sorry, Morgan. It was the best I could get," Hotch said. But Morgan barely heard him. A year? What would he do for a year? He couldn't imagine being away for so long, twiddling his thumbs while his team continued to work, crime after crime, killer after killer. It seemed so wrong. So lazy. So useless.

"Hotch, I...I can't leave this team for that long," he said.

The man looked down at the floor, sighing. "I'm sorry, Morgan. It's been finalized. Your suspension starts today."

Morgan just stared at him, unsure of what to say or do. He...he was losing his job. Temporarily, but still, losing his job. He stared down at his lap, a rush of thoughts running through his mind and yet nothing to say.

"Morgan?" Hotch asked cautiously.

Morgan jumped from his seat, looking around the room and heading to the door. "I'm going to the hospital then to be with Reid. You know where to find me," he said, grabbing the knob and twisting it, pulling it open before turning around and adding, "I...I'm sorry. I just wanted to bring Reid out safe. I...I didn't think. I know it doesn't help, but I'm sorry."

Hotch nodded. "I know," he said softly.

With a sigh, Morgan looked out into the corridor and then turned back to Hotch. "Make sure they pay for what they did. Please," he added, his eyes wide.

"Of course, Morgan."

xXx

Author's Note: The was a severe lack of Reid in this chapter, and this upsets me. But that will change. Oh yes, it will change. Haha. Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews! They really mean so much! Yay! Almost done, I swear.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Branches of Evil (Preview)

"What were you trying to achieve?" Rossi asked, watching as Wright leaned back in his chair, and then leaned forward, his hands fidgeting as he spun the cuffs around his wrists, chewing his lip thoughtfully.

"I was trying to achieve...a cure," he said after a moment, his eyes flitting up to Rossi's dark, shadowed face and then turning back down to the table. "Can't you imagine what it's like? To be insane? To question everything? To think everyone else around you is out to get you? That the devil was really whispering into your ear?" He sat back, folding his arms over his stomach as he regarded Rossi with a scrutinizing look, his eyes narrowed.

"I wanted to help them. I wanted to give them hope. You know, there isn't a cure for schizophrenia. Just it's symptoms," he said, shrugging his broad shoulders, the metal of the cuffs clinking against the table.

"No one knows what causes it. Can't treat it if you don't know what to treat," Rossi said, rolling his shoulder nonchalantly.

"It's the control factor, they don't know. It's trial and error. Make someone insane, treat a specific part of the brain. Fail. Start over. It's just like a science experiment," Wright said, staring up to the ceiling almost dreamily, a faint smile ghosting over his lips.

Rossi folded his arms over his chest and leaned back. "Why though? Why are you so intent on finding a cure?"