A/N: Sorry for the longer than usual wait on this chapter, I got stuck in the hospital like an age. I fixed myself though! (Coincidentally, I was there because I was hit by a car.)

Warning, this chapter does feature a case, but it's limited to this chapter only.

x o x

Reid comes back to work only two short weeks after his accident.

Hotch fully admits that he hasn't actually seen the man for two weeks on Reid's first day back at the office. They'd been on a case for the second week of his absence, lasting the full five weekdays and half into Saturday. He suspects Reid has been sneaking in during it and grabbed some consults to do from home, though he has no proof. Sneaky bastard.

Reid is scheduled to meet Hotch in his office at eight o'clock in the morning to discuss the limits of what he can and cannot do until he heals fully. Even though it's a full hour before their work officially begins, it's not an issue for either of them; Reid usually gets in at around seven thirty anyway, and Hotch a half hour before that. Sure enough, he sees Reid sit down at his desk from the window in his office at around half past seven.

He thinks back to the mysterious letter and equally mysterious voicemail Reid had left. Despite all his suspicions, he still hasn't listened to it yet - nor does he think he will. If Reid doesn't want him to listen to it, he supposes he won't. There could be anything on that voicemail - not to mention all the possibilities if Reid had only accidentally called. All the BAU members had become familiar with the buttdial phenomenon after one drunken night at the bar where Garcia had been too careless with her phone. Judging by Reid's ability with technology - or rather, his lack of it - it's not inconceivable that it was just an embarrassing mistake.

Still, he can't bring himself to just delete it, on the off chance that somewhere along the line, something does go horribly wrong and he's left upstream without a paddle.

There's a soft knock at his door, and Hotch glances out his window to the bullpen to sees Reid's empty desk. "Come in," he says, as Reid's lanky form slithers in.

"Good morning," the younger man says, slipping into the seat opposite his boss. He's still wearing a cast on his wrist, though now it's purple, and there are some signatures on it already - most notably Garcia's, who has taken the liberty of drawing a rather cartoon-like interpretation of Reid. Aside from that, his agent looks fine, all the bruises from the accident having already faded.

"Good morning, Reid. How have you been?" Hotch is somewhat ashamed that during his agent's two week break, he hadn't visited him once. Jack had taken ill unexpectedly in the first week and Jessica was away on a trip, so he'd cared for his son mostly by himself. This left him little time for anything other than work and family, and he'd put Reid on the backburner and made Garcia and Tara promise they'd visit regularly. The younger man doesn't seem to hold it against him; instead, he just smiles unassumingly, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Good," Reid replies. "I caught up on some work for a university. They were interested in some of my previous essays."

"That sounds wonderful."

"It's fairly standard for me." From any other person's mouth it would sound pretentious, but from Reid, it sounds awkward, even apologetic.

"I should have known." The corners of Hotch's mouth turn up into what isn't quite a smile. "I'm sorry I couldn't visit." Couldn't, not didn't, he makes sure to stress. He isn't sure whose benefit that choice of language is for.

"Don't worry about it," Reid says, with what seems like an equally tight smile. "It was good being able to do my own thing for a couple of weeks."

"Sounds a little like a backhanded compliment."

"I refuse to confirm that for fear of incriminating myself." Reid seems more relaxed after joking with his normally-stoic boss, and Hotch watches as the younger man's posture falters slightly and he sinks a little deeper into his seat.

"In any case, welcome back to the unit," Hotch says,

"You made it sound like I died."

"You could have," Hotch replies, and immediately feels bad as he watches Reid blink a little longer, a little harder than usual. Still, he doesn't want any more lies of coverups between them, and he supposes it's better to try catch Reid out when he's relaxed; better strategically at least, though perhaps not very kind.

"But I didn't. The first responders did their jobs."

"You remember the first responders?" It hadn't sounded to Hotch like Reid had remembered Abigail, or anything before waiting up in the hospital.

"No, but I assumed that I wouldn't be sitting here in one piece if they hadn't done a good job. Anyway,"... Reid changes the subject before Hotch can reply properly. "So, did you delete that voicemail I left you yet?"

"Yes." He says it without thinking; of course, he's not going to tell Reid he hasn't deleted it two weeks after he asked him to, because then Reid will ask why, and Hotch just knows that he won't take well to the reason of because I don't trust you. As it turns out, he didn't need to think about it anyway, because Reid catches him out immediately.

"No you haven't," Reid sighs. "Why lie, Hotch?"

"Do I have a tell that I need to fix?"

"Yes, but I'm not saying what it is." Reid crosses his arms again. "Why can't you just delete it like I asked?"

"I've been busy," Hotch replies, and immediately knows it's the wrong thing to say when Reid rolls his eyes.

"Yes, I realised that when you didn't talk to me for two weeks after I got hit by a car-"

"-You just said you didn't mind!" Hotch is genuinely sorry for the way he'd been forced to treat his youngest agent over the past couple of weeks - and he has been forced to, because he just knows he didn't have the time - but he never wants any agent of his to lie about being uncomfortable with any kind of team dynamic, including the boss-subordinate one.

"I lied because I didn't want to make things awkward, but now I-"

"Hotch?" another voice asks from behind Hotch's door. The two men look up to find JJ awkwardly standing there, holding a stack of files in one hand and the doorknob in the other, looking ready to make a run for it.

"Yes, JJ?" Hotch says, finding pride in the fact that he barely managed to miss a beat. Reid, on the other hand, looks so mortified that he's about to pass out.

"We have a case…" JJ says, trailing off awkwardly, "so come through when you're ready, everyone's here." She closes the door and walks off to the round table room

"Truce, for this case?" Reid uncrosses his arms and legs and adopts a much less threatening, more mild expression. It looks well-practiced, and Hotch recognises it as the look he puts on when he pretends not to care about something someone's said about him.

"Of course," Hotch replies, because screw it, what else can they do? He stands up and begins the journey to the round table room, inviting Reid to do the same. "I hope you're prepared for your first case back."

It comes out sounding much nastier than he intended.

x o x

"I have good news and bad news for you all."

Hotch watches as his team settles into their familiar positions at the round table, making sure to keep an eye on Reid especially. Garcia is at the front of the room as usual, checking the headcount before continuing.

Morgan frowns. "Can we get the good news first?" he asks. Hotch is inclined to agree; he fails to see what could be considered good news if they've just been called in for a case, and he hopes Garcia hasn't decided to put what she would call a fun twist into their jobs somehow.

"The good news is, you're all headed to an all-expense paid trip to Florida!" Garcia turns her slideshow on to reveal four victim photos arranged in a square, with names stylized in a glittery rainbow font to accompany each picture.

"I'm liking this font," Lewis comments with only the slight trace of a frown. "Very aesthetic."

"Thanks, it came with a bunch of transparent pngs of ice cream I didn't realise I'd get as well," Garcia replies.

"Why the change?" Reid asks, averting his gaze from the eyesore of the projector. It seems as if Hotch isn't the only one having trouble with the colours.

"I had some spare time and I thought you'd appreciate it a bit more than just looking at some dead bodies-"

Hotch holds up his hand. "I'm sure the Florida PD would appreciate our help catching their serial killer more than we would your creative font choices, but please continue," he reprimands, giving Garcia a stern gaze. It isn't really supposed to mean anything, but he lets her interpret it however she cares to.

"Of course, sir," she replies, switching slides to something more normal. "The bad news is that there's been a series of shootings they can't figure out, and you have to solve the case before you get a vacation."

Rossi smirks. "It's not like we'd get one anyway," he says with a pointed look at Hotch. "Are these the only victims?"

"They suspect that there's more, but only these four have been identified and have the signature present." Garcia flips to the next slide, showing a series of photos of the four victims' temples, more or less where the bullets had penetrated each victim.

"There's scratches running down the sides of their faces," JJ comments, leaning in closer to get a better look.

"Not scratches," Reid corrects, leaning forward to join her. "It's like...scooping?" His face twists. "That didn't make sense."

"No, I get it," Morgan nods. "They're scratches, but they look less like they're from a scratching motion and more like a scooping motion."

JJ lets herself smirk just a little. "Maybe they're trying to get their bullet out. Wouldn't wanna waste them."

"Our unsub is an extreme cheapskate, frequently spotted in a mobility scooter at Walmart," Lewis replies, almost with a straight face.

"That's disgusting," Garcia mutters under her breath, before continuing much more brightly, 'As you've probably assumed, there's a truckload of DNA evidence in the scratch wounds, but it doesn't match any records the police had so it may as well be useless. Also, I know you were kidding, but the bullet went clean through each of the four victim." She makes a displeased face, pursing her lips. "All four bullets were retrieved from the scene and analysed, but that lead was a dud too, as was the gunpowder in the entrance wound."

"Are there scratch wounds on the other bullet hole then?" Reid asks. "There's got to be an exit wound if they found the bullets." It doesn't escape Hotch's notice that he hasn't really stopped looking at the victims' wounds on the screen.

"Apparently they were only found on the entrance wound each time," Garcia replies, facing the team so she doesn't have to look at the victim photos again. "All four victims were businessmen, in a loose sense of the word - that is to say, they all worked in large offices. Well, the third guy, David Sinclair, he worked as a manager of a McDonald's branch, but he still had an office."

"Were they found in their offices?" Morgan asks.

"No, they were found in their homes - no signs of breaking and entering- and all four lived alone. Sinclair was divorced, but apart from that they were all unmarried with no kids. Also, only Daniel Lee, the fourth man, owned his own house. The rest all rented."

Lewis cocked her head to the side. "So we have three middle-aged white men and one Asian man with similar lifestyles, all shot in the temple at close range in their own homes, like an execution."

"No," Reid says suddenly, still looking at the victim photos rather than his team. "Execution style is like this," he says, demonstrating by lifting an imaginary gun to the middle of his forehead and pretending to pull the trigger. "The bullet holes are in the wrong places for an execution-style shooting. If I hold a gun to my temple like this-" Reid holds up his pretend gun to his temple and pretends to fire, "-what does that remind you of?"

"Suicide," Hotch says, turning to look at Reid with what he hopes is a piercing gaze. "A suicide attempt."

"Precisely," Reid says, and to Hotch's mild surprise, crosses his arms and shuts up, finally tearing his eyes off the slideshow.

There's an awkward silence before JJ coughs politely and breaks it, much to Hotch's relief. "If there was no sign of breaking and entering, did all four victims know the unsub somehow?"

"Probably," Reid replies before anyone else can say anything. "Knowing how our cases usually go, our unsub is gonna be an unmarried, childless, white middle aged man like the majority of the victims, suicidal at one point in his life, maybe has a few failed suicide attempts, maybe even survived shooting himself in the head at one point. The victims might know the unsub from something like different anonymous support groups across the city, or maybe even the same one, since there don't seem to be very many people we can interview to find out more about the victims. Actually, that's probably where the unsub is finding all his victims, so we should look into those when we arrive at the precinct. Also hospitals, depending on what we find from the support group angle, they'll have records on any suicide attempts that required hospitalisation, as long as we flash our badges at them enough times. Perhaps he's acting out his own suicide attempt by killing the victims, but as with most attempts, regrets it afterwards, hence the scratching - disguising the wound out of shame? Hurting himself more out of shame? Or maybe he feels that there's something wrong with him internally, in his brain itself, and the scratches are an attempt to look inside his brain, or the victims' brains, as an extension of his own mind." He pauses. "Of course, I am just making all this up based on our previous cases, but doesn't it seem likely though?"

There's another silence, unsure of what to say after the uncharacteristically dark rant of Reid - although Hotch supposes that Reid's probably more right than wrong about their unsub."

"I concur," Lewis finally says with a wry grin, just as Morgan mutters, "Jesus Christ, Reid," under his breath.

"Why don't we head to the precinct in question and confirm all this year?" Rossi gives Reid a look like the younger man has grown an extra head.

"Of course," Reid says with a somewhat plastered-on-looking smile. "I was mostly just being facetious. Are we going now?" He turns his pointed stare to Hotch, who figures it's best to let Reid get away with his sudden flippance if they're leaving for the plane so soon anyway.

"Wheels up in thirty," Hotch announces, and with that, the rest of the team slowly begins to disperse; Morgan puts an arm around Reid's shoulders' and goes what the hell was that, Pretty Boy?; Lewis and JJ go off together to get coffee before they leave, and Garcia is hastily walking out of the office with her equipment before Hotch can even say thank you. Rossi stands up slowly, taking a second to breathe and then turning to Hotch.

"That was creepy and I hated every second of it."

"What was, Dave?" Hotch replies mildly.

"You know what I'm talking about, Aaron, don't play games with me." Rossi hesitates. "But you know more about it than I do, right?"

"I'll deal with it," Hotch assures him as he walks out, and he assures himself too. Yes, I will.

Yes, the pieces are finally coming together.

x o x

It's only two days later, and Reid's rant from the round table briefing is turning out to be mostly correct. The team has narrowed down their unsub pool to two suspects - Michael Henderson, a forty-three year-old man with a history of hospitalizations for multiple suicide attempts, or Ed Willis, who is essentially the same man as Michael Henderson. Reid's gone out to get coffee for the team somewhere, while the rest of the team are debating over the more likely candidate for their unsub is.

"I say Ed," Lewis argues. "Since his only kid died back in '03 and his wife left him long before that. That's screwed up."

"I say Michael," Morgan argues back, "since he's been divorced twice in the past five years, and both wives had two miscarriages each. That's screwed up."

"I say it's neither and Reid led us on some wild goose chase across Florida," JJ mutters, massaging her temples. "There's no evidence, just speculation. We're really living up to the profiler stereotype."

Hotch is about to give his own opinion when his phone rings. Curious, he glances at the caller - Abigail is ringing. She says she'll call, doesn't talk to me for two weeks, then decides to call during a case? Hotch thinks in annoyance, but signals to the team that he has to take the call and go somewhere quiet. Rossi gives him a raised eyebrow, but says nothing.

"Abigail?" Hotch answers, once he's somewhere more quiet and where Abigail won't hear the sound of his team of professional FBI agents arguing over the most likely candidate for their serial killer. "I'm sorry, but this just isn't a good time."

"Is Reid with you?" she asks, and there's something different about her this time - she seems desperate, genuinely scared. He decides to hear her out, despite the bad timing.

"No," he answers. "Why?"

"Then it's a good time," she says, and Hotch hears something change in her voice then. "Listen, when I said that I hit Reid because he came out of nowhere, that wasn't exactly true...well it was, but I didn't mention…"

"Yes?"

"...Hotchner, your agent jumped in front of my car," she finally gets out, then waits with what sounds like bated breath for his response. Hotch has suspected something like this for a while now, and had expected to feel anger upon his suspicions being confirmed; anger at Reid for hiding it, anger at Abigail for lying about it, anger at himself and his team for not noticing. Instead, all he feels is bleakness, and a feeling of well, I guess I don't have to wonder now.

"...Thank you for telling me," he finally says, glancing at the clock. I wonder how long it's been since Reid left, he thinks. "I'll deal with it when he gets back."

"No, you don't get it," Abigail says urgently, and it makes Hotch shut up and listen. "He was unconscious for a little after I hit him, but when he woke up and heard sirens, he started saying...well, those things are his business, but they were horrible, horrible things...he said that if I got him to a hospital, he'd just try again, and again, and again until he was finally dead..."

"..." Hotch stays silent, willing her to continue. He feels slightly ill.

"I think he's mentally unstable….and I don't know what he'd try do, especially if left alone. Please find him and get him some help. And I'm sorry I didn't say sooner..." She hangs up before Hotch can reply, leaving him standing there numbly with the phone pressed against his ear.

There's a flurry of commotion amongst the police officers around him as a report of a man being shot in the head near the local Starbucks comes in, and he feels slightly more ill.

Suddenly, he doesn't feel so good about Reid being alone somewhere in the town anymore.

x o x

Thank you for your continued support for this fic, even if I did get myself hit by a car and prolonged the whole thing by like two months. That means a lot to me.

...That said, you could always review and make my day even better. Thank you all for reading!