Spencer Reid had never felt so torn or confused in his life. It was like his brain cells had decided to go on vacation without him. He wasn't sure if he was pissed off at his Unit Chief or grateful to him. How could he be so torn between such polar opposites? The bile started to rise in his throat and his muscles started to burn and rip apart again. Oh, right, that was why. The barf bag was in his face before he could reach for it.

Hotch held it under Reid's nose as he was sick...again.

Why had he eaten so much for breakfast? The disgusting broth had smelled so good after three days of whatever Tobias had brought in. But now the epidural had worn off as well as the lidocaine. Even the ice packs had been removed, but the effect still lingered. The pain was dulled but it was no longer cold enough to be numb. He almost felt like he was home sick on a snowy day...almost.

Damn, weren't post-op patients supposed to get pain relief? Oh right, Gabapentin and Tylenol with Coedine. That was a joke.

Hotch took a rag and wiped the vomit off of Ried's chin. He gently lowered Reid back against the raised hospital bed. "Reid, sleep. Please," he begged his youngest agent.

"Can't," Reid moaned, his breath coming in painful gasps. Not again.

Hotch ran his hand through Reid's sweat and vomit soaked hair. How had he managed to get the vomit there? He grabbed the oxygen mask and held it to Reid's face, noticing the tremble in his agent's hands as he tried to grab it from the bed rail.

"Just try, Reid. Close your eyes. That's it." Hotch mentally checked off the drug and withdrawal symptoms, feeling almost certain that the day was going to get worse before it got better. Hotch himself was still half asleep and could not imagine for the life of him how Reid could possibly be coherent. Even Jack slept more than this. He was almost desperate enough to slip the injured doctor a sleeping pill, even if he had to steal it...

"J.J.?"

Hotch turned around to find that Morgan and J.J. had slipped silently into the room.

"Spence."

J.J. was a beautiful woman by all accounts, but right now she'd never looked better - even with no make up and her hair thrown up in a bun.

They weren't sure who had reached out first, but in a matter of seconds, the oxygen mask was off and they were in each other's arms. Despite the pain, Reid didn't dare let go.

"I'm so sorry," J.J. cried on his shoulder. The thought of how close she'd come to loosing her 'little brother' had been giving her nightmares all night. Seeing him lucid and safe was like nothing she'd ever felt before. She moved her arms from his shoulders down his back, tracing the outline of the bandages and epidural catheter through the hospital gown. "I'm so sorry."

"Its alright. It's not your fault. I was so worried about you, the whole time..." His stopped short as he tried to choke back the tears. He was surprised he had any left. "I thought you..."

J.J. tried to pull back to look Reid in the eye, but he tightened his grip, as if he was afraid of letting go.

"I thought you were dead. We had two unsubs in the profile. I heard the gunshots and I..."

"Reid, look at me!" J.J. forced him to let go, keeping her hands on his shoulders. "I shot the dogs."

"Hankel said -"

"Hankel lied. His dogs tried to attack me in the barn, but they didn't get to me. I wasn't hurt."

"Not hurt?"

"No, I wasn't hurt." She kept her hands on his shoulders. "Take a deep breath for me okay. The case is over, we made it. You're safe now."

"Don't leave me!" Reid reached back out to her, his lips trembling as he bit back the tears. Reid wasn't sure what was going on - but it wasn't the pain driving the tears. He didn't know what it was - he hated that. But being held, knowing that this was reality - not a dream or a nightmare, was somehow extremely important at that moment. Dreams, nightmares, reality, they were all so different so how did it feel like all of them at once? The pain was a nightmare. Seeing J.J. unharmed was like a dream come true, but the hug? The hug felt real, to have someone touching him who wasn't inflicting pain - intentional or otherwise - made him feel alive in a way that he hadn't for so long.

J.J. didn't fight it. "I won't," she promised. She leaned into the embrace, noticing for the first time that his hospital gown was wet with sweat and he was trembling. Knowing that music had calmed him down last night through the worst of the pain - but not trusting her own voice - she began humming the tune of a long forgotten lullaby as she rocked him in her arms reminding him that he was safe. "I'm not going anywhere."

Derek Morgan, ever the stoic muscle man, surveyed the scene - his profiler brain impossible to turn off. Hotch was exhausted beyond help. If adrenaline had kept the man running this long - then the tank had to be on empty. He doubted that his boss could have driven down to the field office even if he was allowed to. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he even thought that Hotch may be delaying his own discharge just for the chance to sleep without feeling guilty about leaving Reid alone. Then there were J.J. and Spence, whose shared terror of that night had them clinging to each other as anchors to sanity. He had seen it before, so many times when victims were reunited with the family they had last seen. It was the terror, coupled with relief coming to bear down on them like a tidal wave. It was odd to see such emotions displayed within the normally professional team - except none of them had been victimized before.

Not true, he reminded himself. Elle Greenaway had been victimized, shot in her own home and it had destroyed her. He wouldn't let that happen to Reid. He thought back to those days after the shooting. They had to learn from that. They had given Elle her space, perhaps too much. What had she said as Lee was walked out of the police station? "I'm supposed to believe that you've got my back?!" and what had J.J. said back at the Hankel house? "...but if I'd had his back, like I was supposed to, then he'd be here right now." Elle had been in the wrong confronting the suspect so soon but the team had been perhaps too hard on Elle, less understanding and more critical. Reid and J.J. should not have split up. That much could be accepted, but the aftermath? It made sense at the time to be professional with Elle, to keep their distance and let her deal with it - but knowing text book victim behavior and helping one were two different things. The only person who had made a decent effort to connect to Elle had been Reid. Mind you, according to Reid, she had been drinking at the time and hadn't been very talkative, but he had tried. They had to do that for him, that and then some, no matter how unpleasant it was. They had to support him in every way possible or the Reid that they knew - the love-able young geek with an infectious laugh and a love of physics magic would be nothing more than the ghost of a memory.

He picked up his cell phone and made a call he hoped he wouldn't regret.