A/N: Chapter 25 has been updated to add more plot. This is more a chapter to move the story along. This is the first chapter I've written in over 12 years so it has been a little slow to pick up. Hope you enjoy.

The corridor was long and dark. A haunting glow from dimly lit bulbs cast ominous shadows, giving the illusion that it was never ending. Squinting his eyes, he could just make out what appeared to be the shape of a door in the distance. Putting his hand to the gun at his hip, he slowly proceeded down the corridor. His heart was pounding in his chest, a bead of sweat ran down his temple and traced a line to the collar of his shirt.

Every step he took brought him that little bit closer to the door. The corridor lights seemed to dim the nearer he got. Complete darkness was now behind him.

"Help me"

A gentle whisper in his ear startled him, he spun around drawing his weapon. He pointed it into the darkness, an involuntary shiver running up his spine.

"HELP ME!"

A long, harsh shout made him jump, it was coming from the end of the corridor.

"PLEASE HELP!"

Before he even had time to process the shouts, he was running towards the door. Sinister laughing, brutal grunts and sobs grew louder with each frantic step, overwhelming, as if they were surrounding him. He finally reached the door. Bringing up his right foot, he violently kicked, the lock broke and the door swung open.

"FBI!"

Silence.

His breath caught in his throat. The walls and floor were covered in blood. He surveyed the room down the barrel of his gun, but found no one.

Suddenly the clink of a chain could be heard from behind, he spun round to see a bed he didn't seem to notice before.

Instantly he knew where to go, dropping to his knees and looking under, there was Reid, eyes wide, pleading.

"Help me." He whispered, his haunted eyes standing out on his blood covered face, burning into his rescuer's soul.

He reached out a hand to his youngest colleague. The gesture was not returned.

"Come on, Reid!" He said frantically. He needed to get him out. To get him to safety.

He looked at his colleague's face once more, when he did, his stomach flipped. Reid was staring at him, completely expressionless, glassy eyed, doll-like.

He paused involuntarily, his heart fluttering in his chest, his hand still outstretched. The sense of foreboding was overwhelming.

The room was in complete silence, like it had taken a deep breath. His eyes searched for some form of recognition in his colleague.

Suddenly, a hand clamped onto his making him jump. Reid's eyes were wide, horrified, like someone realising they were in the last few seconds of their life and they were going to die.

"You're too late." His young colleague whispered.

He felt the hand that was so tightly clamped onto his be violently wrenched away as Reid was dragged backwards and away from him.

"NO!" He screamed, helplessly watching as his colleague was taken by a seemingly invisible force further and further away until darkness consumed him. It was only a split second. Reid was gone.

His shocked breathing was the only sound that could be heard. His hand was still outstretched, hoping beyond hope that he would feel the grasp of his colleague's hand once more.

Looking down in a daze to his empty, shaking hand, there appeared to be blood soaking through his shirt sleeve. Furrowing his brows and grimacing, he rolled it up. Carved into his arm in angry raised letters, "YOU LOSE".

Hotch was sat in his office, blinds closed, his desk lamp providing the only source of light. He was mindlessly thumbing through reports in need of review before their submission. None were urgent, but all were overdue. His brain had not allowed him to fully function over the past week.

He took the bridge of his nose between his fingers for a few moments, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to encourage himself to focus.

A knock at the door broke him from his thoughts. He straightened his expression into his usual partial scowl. "Come in." He called firmly.

A man he was only vaguely familiar with opened the door, holding an FBI file. He glanced around the room taking in the darkness, looking mildly surprised.

"Morning, Agent Hotchner." He answered, with extra emphasis on the 'morning'. "I'm Agent Nicholas Field, I'm leading the Human Trafficking Task Forces out of Pittsburgh and Norfolk."

Hotch stood respectfully.

"Ah, Nicholas. I am familiar with your work and of course, your reputation." He shook the man's hand and pointed him in the direction of a chair, casually turning on the room's main light.

Nicholas moved to sit down.

"And I with the BAU and the great work you guys do here. It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly. Please, call me Nick."

Hotch then returned to his desk and sat opposite the Agent, closing the file he had open and replacing it on top of the sizeable stack to the right of him.

"What can I help you with? I trust you received my reports."

Nick's lips tightened into a thin line.

"Yes. Yes I did. And I'm sorry to read about what happened to your agent."

"Thank you." Hotch replied simply, maintaining eye contact as an invitation to continue.

"Two years ago I began working out of Pittsburgh tracking a human trafficking organisation that has an operation in West Virginia. As we have been uncovering more of the network we are finding that the operation spans much wider than West Virginia and well into Virginia, so over the last year I have been working between Pittsburgh and Norfolk. We have been aware of the key players in most areas, but the Eastern cells have remained something of a mystery. We knew they were operating and have had undercovers trying to infiltrate the network for some time, but they have had little success in obtaining useful information for the cells operating out of this area. Our undercovers have been aware of men going missing and new victims being brought into the network, but there have been no official records or reports of these people even existing. They are like ghosts in our system. So, you can imagine how much your reports were of interest to us when they were received."

Hotch nodded, listening intently.

"Over the last week, there have been rumblings."

Hotch's eyebrows twitched. "Rumblings?"

"It seems as though the entire Eastern operation has ground to a halt. Our undercovers have reported dissension across the whole network. Whatever purpose the Eastern cell serves, it appears to be a fairly integral one and it seems that Steven Pritchard may have been at the centre of it."

Hotch nodded again, his scowl deepening somewhat.

"I have read your reports and the witness statement from Mark Bridges, which have all been incredibly helpful." He paused and continued carefully. "But I haven't yet seen the statement from your agent."

Hotch cleared his throat slightly. "No."

"I know it is a delicate matter and it will be treated with the highest level of confidentiality. Of course, his name will be kept classified on a strictly 'need to know' basis."

"I understand that and I trust that it will." Hotch offered no further information.

"Well?" Nick looked expectantly at Hotch which forced him to uncharacteristically break eye contact.

"There is no statement yet."

Nick's eyebrows raised in surprise. "No statement – May I ask why?"

Hotch was starting to dislike the younger man's tone. Whilst it was not accusatory, it held enough concern for Hotch to feel as though he was being judged.

"My agent has not been in a position to submit a statement yet."

"Was he so gravely injured?" He opened the file he held in his hand and flicked to Hotch's report. "There was no mention of this in the reports I received."

"No – no he was not." Hotch still offered no further information.

Nick looked searchingly at him for a few moments. Getting nothing in return he sighed.

"Look, I know you are just looking out for your colleague. I respect that. He's had a tough time and you don't want to make it harder for him-"

"A tough time? He was mentally, physically and sexually tortured for over 60 hours. If you have read my reports then you will know that." Hotch's expression was angry now, even if his voice didn't show it.

"I understand." Hotch really didn't think he did, but he allowed the man to continue. "But there is a lot of time unaccounted for in these reports. Time that only your agent has knowledge of. The death of Jason Turner has been vaguely explained, but Steven Pritchard, his full involvement and what led to his death are still unknown. These are answers only your agent can provide."

Hotch closed his eyes for a few short moments, composing himself.

"I know."

"If I could speak with him, he may be able to provide valuable information that will help us. Especially with the operation running in a weakened state, the information he gives could be key to shutting down a whole division of this trafficking ring."

"No." Hotch answered firmly.

"No?" Nick let out an exasperated laugh.

"My team will take the statement."

"With all due respect, Agent Hotchner, your team are not part of the task force and have no involvement with this operation. Whilst you know I admire the BAU and the work you do, you are not specialists in this area. I know you want to protect your agent, but he is now safe. Think of the victims still stuck in that situation."

Hotch let out a sigh, shaking his head, still appearing reluctant to agree.

"Agent Hotchner….. I'm trying not to go above your head here." Nick said cautiously, but his intention was clear. He would if he had to.

Hotch stared hard at the other agent, it wasn't often he found himself on the receiving end of a power play.

"Okay." He surrendered. "But one of my agents will sit in."

Nick held up his hands and nodded. "Not a problem." He moved to stand up. "Is he still at the hospital or home now?" He obviously intended to head over fairly quickly.

"He is due to go home today. I would ask that you leave it until tomorrow. At least let him get settled." Hotch's eyes softened, this was clearly a favour that he knew didn't have to be fulfilled.

Nick held his gaze for a few moments. "Okay, I can do that."

"Thank you." Hotch nodded.

"There is one more thing." Nick's face creased uncomfortably. "The tapes you mentioned in the reports."

"Steven is not on them." Hotch answered quickly.

"No - but Jason is. He was clearly involved with this organisation."

"I can get you transcripts." Hotch shot back.

"Would you settle for transcripts?" Nick raised his eyebrows at Hotch, once again they were in a stand off. Huffing out an uncharacteristically childish breath, Hotch once again surrendered and stood to lead Nick out of the office.

"I'll get you a room."

"Good morning, Dr. Reid." A cheerful voice came from the doorway. Reid looked up to see Ruth smiling brightly at him, file in hand.

Spencer managed a small smile.

"Morning."

Ruth pulled up a chair next to Reid's bedside and casually sat down.

"How are you doing today?"

Reid made eye contact for a short moment and nodded gently.

"Better." He wasn't lying. This was his eighth day in hospital and his body was slowly beginning to heal. The pains that had racked his body when he was first admitted had largely subsided leaving behind dull aches which made him feel more tired than tense. He was grateful for that. It had allowed him to rest, somewhat peacefully.

Ruth smiled again. "Glad to hear it." She genuinely was. There was a period on day six where she genuinely thought he would be unable to leave the hospital.

His friend, Morgan had paid a visit in the morning. She had been urgently called in to find Spencer staring blankly and completely unresponsive to external stimuli. No amount of sound, physical contact or visual stimulus could bring him out of it.

"Reid!" Morgan waved his hand in front of Spencer's glassy eyes. "He's just not responding."

He remained calm, but the pace of his words gave away his panic.

Ruth moved to Reid's side. "Dr. Reid, can you hear me?" No response. "If you can hear me, can you blink for me?"

Dr. Marston was busy attaching a blood pressure cuff to Reid's arm. His body gave no reaction to her touch. Morgan's eyes were wide with concern.

"Come on, kid. Just do somethin'."

No response.

Dr. Marston shined a light in Reid's eyes. "His pupils are very dilated. They are responding but not as quickly as I would like."

"What does that mean?" Morgan looked to Dr. Marston for reassurance. She turned to Ruth for support.

"It appears he may be in a state of catatonia." Ruth responded, her brows furrowed. She carefully picked up his hand and gently slapped the back of it a couple of times to try and rouse him. "Dr. Reid! Can you hear me?"

Again, no response. She looked across the bed to Morgan and placed Reid's hand back down into his lap.

"Keep talking to him. I just need to speak with a colleague. I will be back shortly."

"Wait!" Morgan's eyes were glistening, his face tense with worry. "What does this mean? What- What can we do?"

"There are things we can do." Ruth reassured. "I just need to speak with a colleague for some advice."

"His vitals are all good." Dr. Marston cut in.

"Thanks, Beth." Responded Ruth. "I will be back shortly." She promptly left the room.

"Reid. It's me. I'm here, kid. I'm always here for you." Morgan grabbed Reid's hand and wrapped it within his own, placing it under his chin for comfort. He looked to Dr. Marston again. "Will he be okay?"

"We will do everything we can. Trust us, Agent Morgan. As Ruth said, just keep talking to him. If anything changes press the call bell and I will be right back."

"You're not staying?"

"His vital signs are fine. If he is in a state of catatonia then he needs a Psychiatrist to diagnose and decide on the best course of treatment." Seeing Morgan's worry, she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Please, just sit tight. Keep talking to him. Your voice will be a comfort to him. I will be back once Ruth returns." With that she left the room.

Morgan stared hopefully at Reid's face, willing him to snap out of this apparent trance.

"Reid. I know you're in there. A big old brain like yours doesn't just stop working." Morgan remained gripped onto Reid's hand, putting his head down so his forehead touched the back of his colleague's hand. He breathed out a shaky sigh, tears threatening to escape.

Morgan cleared his throat, lifting his head again. He let out a small breathy laugh. "I was just thinking about that time I lost that bet to you…. You dragged me to that ridiculous Halloween puppet show. Me walking round the street dressed as a damn werewolf and you asGary Oldman's Dracula because it was the 'most faithful representation of the book'."

Morgan rolled his eyes, huffing. "You were so excited, I thought your head was gonna burst." He smiled. "You know how much I hate dressing up, it made you so damn happy to put me in that costume." He laughed, shaking his head. "I've never felt so stupid. Although, I gotta admit, the puppet show was pretty good." Morgan gave a tight lipped smile. "I know I told you I hated it. I thought I would. But I actually had a good time."

Morgan shook his head, knowing that when Reid had invited him again the following year, he'd laughed in his face and said 'not a chance'. He reached up to stroke Reid's hair then leaned in front of him trying to make eye contact.

"Once you get better, I swear, we will do anything you want to do. Puppet shows, ghost shows, sci-fi movies, Doctor Who marathons. Anything. You name it." He stood up, pulling his colleague into a hug, resting the side of his face on top of Reid's head. "Just come back to me, kid."

On the advice of her colleague, a challenge dose of Lorazepam had been administered. This seemed to markedly improve his symptoms and within a few hours he was able to communicate again, albeit sluggishly. The decision was made to keep him on it for the short-term to help with his anxiety and to stop him slipping back into a catatonic state.

"How are you finding the Lorazepam?" She asked, opening her file.

"Helpful." Reid said simply.

"How are you sleeping?"

Reid nodded with his usual tight lipped smile. "Better." He repeated. When Ruth kept looking at him, he reluctantly expanded, "I'm not dreaming as much." His fingers fidgeted.

"That's good." She wrote in her notes. "How do you feel about going home?"

"I'm not going home." Reid said sharply. "I'm going to Morgan's to be babysat."

Ruth furrowed her brows. "You're not being babysat, Dr. Reid."

"Well how else would you describe it? You've all decided I'm incapable of taking care of myself, much like a child. So I would say the term is pretty accurate."

"That is not the case. I have no doubt that you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. This is just a precaution for the short-term to give your mind some time to heal from the trauma you've experienced. PTSD is a serious concern and can have a detrim-"

"I know what it is." Reid rolled his eyes. "I have spent the last eight days in this hospital with nothing put people poking, prodding, coming in to 'talk to me', staring at me like I'm some sort of rare disease-"

"You are feeling smothered." Ruth stately flatly. She wouldn't normally put words in a patient's mouth, but one thing she had learned about Dr. Spencer Reid was that he would never use one clear expression when there were hundreds of other words he could use to avoid saying what he really means.

Reid went to speak, then furrowed his brows and nodded, dropping his head a little. His voice was now soft. "I got no space….. When…. When he was there, he was just all over me, all the time. And when he wasn't, I was just… stuck."

"And you feel the same here."

"I feel trapped. I just need to be able to breathe." He looked at Ruth through dejected eyes. "Please." His voice almost a whisper.

Ruth loosened her grip on her file and pen, sitting back in her chair with a breath out. She paused for a moment, wanting to deal with this very carefully.

"This is the first time you have acknowledged him to me." Ruth stated calmly.

Reid's eyes darted away nervously.

"Would you like to talk to me about how he made you feel?" She pressed gently, in the best way she knew how.

Reid crossed his arms protectively across his chest.

"No."

"What is it you are scared of, Dr. Reid?"

"I'm not scared." He countered quickly.

"He cannot hurt you again…. He is gone. This is a safe space." She spoke softly, leaning a little towards Reid.

"I know that." Reid snapped, his fingers fidgeting with the sleeves on his gown.

"You are safe. He can never do anything to harm you again." She pressed.

"Don't you think I know that?!" Reid practically spit. "You have no idea what you are talking about!"

"Then explain it to me." Ruth countered.

Reid opened his mouth to snap again then abruptly stopped himself. His elbow came to the bed rail and he rubbed his forehead in his hand, scrunching up his eyes.

"Stop doing this." He said through gritted teeth.

"Doing what?" Asked Ruth.

"Manipulating me!" Reid almost shouted, bringing down his fist on the bed rail.

Ruth was a little taken aback. "I'm not."

"Yes. You are."

"Calm down, Spencer."

"….Don't say that to me." He almost whispered.

Ruth took a pause, examining him carefully. "Did he say that to you?"

Reid frustratedly looked up to the ceiling as if wanting to escape. Then his eyes went slightly distant, he stared for a few seconds, the pain was evident in his eyes. He closed them for a few moments longer, rubbing with his hand. Ruth watched him with a soft gaze.

"Like it was going to make it all easier." His voice cracked with emotion.

Ruth nodded and remained silent.

"It didn't make it easier. All I wanted to do was get him off me, to leave me alone and he just kept…." Reid scrunched up his face in disgust. "He kept….. he kept touching. I had to escape, in my mind. But if he knew I'd done it, he would bring me right back there. There was no escape. No where to go where he wasn't."

"What would happen if you didn't calm down?"

"He would either hold me down 'til I did or be violent." Reid laughed unstably. "He didn't need to hold me down half the time. I was already chained to the bed and couldn't move."

Ruth's eyes widened slightly, it was barely noticeable but it was there.

"He just enjoyed it. I tried so hard to stay calm but it was impossible." Reid shuddered, closing his eyes again. "Especially when he would….." He swallowed hard.

"He would what, Spencer?" Ruth asked gently.

"Don't make me say it." Reid whispered.

"I'm not going to make you say anything you don't want to say."

"He would… make me-" Reid suddenly paled. Flashes flooded his mind. Jason on top of him, Jason's hands, Jason's mouth, the taste of Jason's- Reid started retching. Suddenly, Ruth was next to him with a bowl and Reid was dry heaving over it, beads of sweat forming on his brow. His body shook as the waves of nausea overtook him.

"You're okay….. you're okay." Ruth said soothingly.

Once the nausea had left him he dropped his head into his hands, breathing heavily.

"Take some deep breaths." Ruth advised.

"I'm sorry." Reid choked out.

"You have nothing to apologise for."

Reid took a few deep breaths until his heart rate settled. He swallowed thickly.

"I'm so tired of this." Reid huffed.

Ruth gave an encouraging smile. "Even though you might not feel like it, you are making progress."

Reid laughed sceptically, it sounded slightly disturbed.

"You are." Ruth continued. "And the more you talk about it, the more it will help you." Reid rolled his eyes. "It's true." She nodded.

"I know therapy has its merits." Reid said awkwardly.

"You have a B.A. in Psychology. You work in behavioural analysis. You know as well as I do, if not better, that avoidance will only lead to more issues." Ruth pushed gently.

"I know." Reid said sadly.

Ruth waited for him to expand further, but he didn't. She silently sighed.

"Is there anything you would like to talk about?"

"Going home." Reid answered quickly. "I want to go home."

"You are going home today." Ruth said with a smile.

"I mean my home."

"Spencer, we have already discussed this." Ruth leaned in a little, imploring Reid to understand.

"No, you have told me what is going to happen. I wouldn't call that a discussion." Reid said matter of factly.

"I cannot simply let you go home alone when you are experiencing severe symptoms of PTSD. It's just not safe."

"Nothing is safe." Reid countered.

Ruth lifted her eyebrows in realisation.

"Is that what this is about? Feeling safe?"

"What?" Reid answered, irritated.

"Do you not feel safe with Agent Morgan?" Ruth asked, concerned.

He opened his mouth intending to bite back quickly, but stopped himself. He shifted uncomfortably, considering his answer carefully before responding. "No." He said quietly. That realisation made him incredibly sad.

"Dr. Reid?" Ruth leaned forward, willing him to continue.

"I don't think I feel safe with anyone right now." He scrunched his eyes closed like he was starting with a headache.

"Why is that?" She spoke softly.

Reid dodged the question by turning away and giving a small shake of the head.

"Spencer…. Why is that?" Ruth was genuinely concerned.

Reid suddenly exploded again.

"Why?" He laughed an extremely disturbed laughed "Why?! Well maybe it's because I've spent days with someone who has done nothing but attack me, bully me and hurt me and when he wasn't doing that he was stroking me, kissing and cuddling me, all the while I'm chained up, unable to move and when I could move he would beat me or force me to fight him and then beat me some more. If I fought him, I got beaten! If I didn't I got raped!" Reid spat, his voice speeding. "Being told over and over that there is no point fighting it and if I did he would only enjoy it more. And this is all by a person I called my friend! Not some random person on the street. A friend! So please, forgive me if I'm not feeling all that trusting right now."

Reid pursed his lips and blinked a few times, his heart pounding, his breath coming heavily. He quickly came to a realisation of what he had just admitted. His fight or flight was kicking in. He felt the need to escape, desperately. He darted his eyes downwards.

"Excuse me." He fidgeted with the bed rails to drop them down and swung his legs onto the floor. Before Ruth had the opportunity to speak Reid was at the bathroom and had closed the door behind him.

After a few seconds Ruth let out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding and rubbed her hand down her face, resting it over her mouth. She sat wide eyed in contemplation for a few moments, processing what had just been said to her. She dropped her head down to look at her lap. She had dealt with trauma for years. Car crashes, shootings, robberies, sexual assaults, child abuse, domestic abuse. They unfortunately were common place as an inpatient Psych. She dealt with people at the birth of their trauma.

She knew Reid's was a bad case. If she was totally honest with herself, she didn't realise quite how bad. It was good that he had opened up, definite progress, but the level of forced control he had experienced worried her. She knew it was only the Lorazepam that was keeping his mind in the present right now. She idly wondered what the future would hold for him. Such a promising life. A life that revolved selflessly around saving those who couldn't save themselves, so callously ripped to shreds by genuine evil.

"Dr. Reid?" She called out gently.

"Please go." He begged from the other side of the door.

"Okay" She replied kindly. She stood, closing her file and left the room.

Reid closed the door behind him, his breath coming thick and fast now. He was starting to feel dizzy. He anxiously paced the bathroom as well as his leg would allow.

He muttered to himself through gritted teeth, slapping himself in the forehead with frustration. "Idiot, idiot, idiot."

He suddenly stopped, leaning over the sink. His head spun. He took some deep breaths trying to calm himself. Once his breathing was back to normal he looked at himself in the mirror. This was the first time he had seen himself properly. He had only been allowed to the bathroom for the first time that morning, during which a nurse was stood outside to make sure he was okay. It didn't exactly allow for much alone time.

His eyes widened at his appearance. His face was covered in dark bruises and partially healed cuts. His skin seemed impossibly pale and his cheekbones were disturbingly prominent. That was hardly surprising given that Reid had barely eaten since his admission into the hospital. It had gotten so bad that the nurses were now watching him drink the protein drinks just to keep his body going.

He just stared into his own eyes with no emotion, his eyes started to blur as he began dissociating once again. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog.

He then caught sight of a bruise on his jaw line. It was purple turning to brown. He tilted his head to see a pattern of similar bruises running down the side of his neck heading under his top. He pulled at his pyjama top to expose his shoulder. The bruises continued down and were punctuated by what were clearly bite marks. His hands shook as he looked upon Jason's work. His skin crawled as if infected.

Again, panicked breathing overtook him. They were slowly healing, but still clear for all to see. He had sat with all his colleagues, nurses, doctors, Ruth, with Jason's sick markings all over him. A clear advertisement of just how weak he had been. Everyone knew. It was obvious. They all knew.

He found himself feeling unsteady and grabbed onto the bathroom sink for support. His world felt like it had violently jolted beneath his feet. Losing his balance a little he reached out and found a wall support meant for the disabled. Letting go of the sink, he sank down to the floor as his legs turned to mush beneath him. He shuffled back into the corner of the room until his back met cold tile. He wrapped his hands around the sides of his neck and pulled his knees up for comfort as if shielding himself.

"Dr. Reid?"

"Please go." He begged.

He heard an 'Okay'. Then the sound of the door closing.

He dropped his head and closed his eyes, wishing that the wall would just absorb him.

Morgan entered the ward with a cheerful expression on his face. Last night he had received the good news that Reid would be able to leave the hospital and whilst Reid didn't look too thrilled at the prospect, Morgan was overjoyed.

Whilst he was pleased for Reid, a selfish part of him was also pleased for himself. He hated coming to the hospital. Seeing Reid stuck in a box room, looking more and more despondent as the days went on was doing no one any good.

He turned the corner to Reid's room, finding the door open he swept in with a grin on his face.

"Pretty Boy-" He was stopped in his tracks when he found the room empty.

Morgan looked to the bathroom, figuring Reid was probably in there. He sat himself down, a small smile still on his lips prepared to greet him when he emerged.

As the minutes passed, the smile slowly started to leave his face and concern began to take its place. Trying to shake off the feeling, Morgan decided to give him a few more minutes. The last thing Reid needed was Morgan knocking on the door in a moment of privacy.

As the time crept up to ten minutes, Morgan had to admit, he was feeling pretty damn nervous.

"Reid?" He called out cautiously. He received no answer.

He stood and walked towards the bathroom door, listening intently for any movement.

Knocking gently, he called again. "Reid? You in there, man?"

No answer.

Feeling the concern building in his chest, he reached for the door handle. It was locked.

Now panic came. He knocked again on the door.

"Reid?!… You okay in there?….. Answer me, man!"

Having a sudden spark of inspiration, Morgan remembered that all bathroom doors in hospitals can be unlocked from the outside for patient safety.

He quickly pulled a quarter out of his pocket and inserted it into a small ridge that was part of the locking mechanism. Turning it, the door unlocked and he pulled it open with relief as he saw his friend.

The relief was fast overtaken with more panic. Reid was squeezed into the corner of the bathroom, knees tucked tightly up to his chest. Morgan started to rush forward calling his name then realised his friend's head was resting against the wall with a pillow cushioning it. Morgan stopped dead in confusion. Reid appeared to be asleep. In the bathroom. On the floor.

Furrowing his brows, Morgan moved cautiously towards Reid, not wanting to startle him.

He reached out a hand and gently shook him from his shoulder, sincerely hoping that he was only asleep.

"Reid?" Morgan spoke gently giving him a slightly stronger shake.

Reid moaned slightly as he was roused from his slumber, seemingly reluctant to leave sleep behind.

He squinted his eyes as they slowly adjusted to the light. Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he clumsily looked at it and followed the attached arm up to the face that was staring at him. Blinking a couple of times, his gaze finally focused and found Morgan's relieved but confused expression.

"Oh, hey." He said sleepily.

"What you doing down there, Reid?"

Reid took a couple of seconds to take in his surroundings. Realising he had been found on the floor in the bathroom, a look of embarrassment crossed his face.

"I thought I locked it." Reid offered no explanation.

"You did." Morgan reached out a hand to him to help him up. To his surprise, Reid took it.

"Thanks." Reid grabbed the disabled assistance bar with one hand and allowed Morgan to pull him up with the other. He sucked in a breath through his teeth as his ribs complained.

"You okay?" Morgan put his hand around Reid's back to steady him.

"Yeah." Reid said simply.

"Come on, let's get you sat down." Morgan spoke gently. He didn't really know what to make of what he had just found. Reid was okay and seemed calm. He definitely wasn't going to mention how uncharacteristic it was for him to settle in such an unhygienic place. Reminding Reid of such foibles seemed counterproductive at this moment.

Morgan kept his hand on Reid's back as he carefully limped over to the chair that Morgan had been sat in shortly before. As Reid winced due to his stiff limbs, Morgan grabbed his arm in support.

"You okay?" He asked again, his eyes filled with concern and care. Reid's hand found its way on top of Morgan's and squeezed reassuringly. Morgan smiled a little at the gesture. "That's it. Take a seat." He stroked the back of Reid's head unconsciously as he released his guiding hand from his back.

Reid stood stock still for a moment, his gaze down. Morgan looked at him questioningly.

"Derek?"

The use of his first name caught him off guard. Reid hardly ever called him 'Derek'.

"Yeah, kid?"

Reid took a few moments, as if considering his words.

"Thank you." Reid said gently, his lip quivering slightly. Then he gingerly and awkwardly reached around Morgan's waist and grabbed him into a tight hug.

Morgan stood in shock. This was the first time Reid had initiated this kind of physical contact in… well… ever.

Morgan's arms slowly reached round his friend's shoulders gently pulling him closer. Reid's face tucked into Morgan's shoulder as he stroked the back of his head. Morgan's eyes welled up slightly.

"I love you, kid". Morgan said gently. Reid just nodded into his shoulder, taking a deep breath.

They remained in the embrace for a good ten seconds. Morgan didn't know what had prompted the sudden display of affection, but he had to admit, it meant the world to him. After a week of walking in to the hospital riddled with anxiety over what he might find, feeling attacked, useless, frustrated, terrified, overwhelmed… sad – this moment made it all worth while.

Reid slowly broke away from the hug and looked at Morgan, his eyes sad but thankful. There was another emotion dancing in his eyes that Morgan couldn't quite pin point, something akin to guilt. Suddenly Reid's sleeve covered hand came up to gently wipe Morgan's cheek. He hadn't even realised a tear had escaped. Morgan awkwardly huffed out a breath turning away.

Reid gave a small, grateful smile then moved to sit down in the chair.

After a few moments, Morgan composed himself.

He cleared his throat. "Right… let's see if we can get you out of here." Morgan smiled.

Morgan stood drumming his fingers on the nurse's station, waiting for Dr. Marston. It wasn't too long before she emerged alongside Ruth.

"Agent Morgan." Dr. Marston smiled. "How are you?" She moved to shake his hand. Ruth followed suit.

Morgan nodded. "I'm good, is he ready to go?" The anticipation of getting Reid out of there overtook any manners he would normally display.

Dr. Marston smiled and gestured towards an empty side room. They filed in and she closed the door for privacy.

"From a medical standpoint, he's all ready. His discharge papers have been completed. He has a 3 day prescription for his pain meds, I expect this should be enough but if he does need more he will need to speak with his Primary Care Physician. His stitches have all been removed and an appointment with a physio will be arranged, which will be received through the post."

Morgan breathed a sigh of relief and smiled again.

"Thank you, Doc."

"Agent Morgan?" Ruth cut in. "I just wanted to have a quick chat with you about something before we let him go."

Morgan's expression darkened somewhat, the concern on his face was clear.

"As I'm sure you're aware, Spencer is struggling with the idea of someone being with him 24/7. Obviously I'm not going to share exactly what we've discussed as it's confidential but I do feel it's important that I make you aware of the fact that he feels his control is being taken away. Which, given what he has been through, is not surprising."

A flash of anger crossed Morgan's features. It was not directed at Ruth.

"Yeah, that's understandable." Morgan said plainly.

Ruth nodded sadly.

"Whilst the emphasis has been on a 24/7 care plan, mainly due to his PTSD symptoms, there is a balance to be found between ensuring his safety and allowing him to have the autonomy to make his own decisions and live independently. The latter is important as it will help to build up his confidence in himself, which at this point, frankly, is very low."

"Always has been." Morgan gave a tight lipped smile. "So… don't smother him." He summarised her words.

She smiled a bit, remembering their earlier session where she had used the same word herself.

"It's important that he is given the opportunity to have some time to himself, or a space that's his own – if you can manage it. I know it's difficult when someone is entering into your home. But the more independence and trust you can give him, the more 'normal' he's going to feel."

"But he still needs watching 24/7?"

"Well I wouldn't call it 'watching' exactly. But he needs someone close by. I'm not saying go out for hours and leave him alone. At least not for the first week or so. As we have seen, his flashbacks are overpowering and could be dangerous if he is left completely alone. But, if you have the space, give him his privacy as much as he craves it. You will still need to check in on him, but it's important that he feels he has some control over how he processes this."

Morgan nodded.

"Not a problem, I've already designated an area of the house just for him so he can feel a little more at home. I know he doesn't want to stay with me. Trust me, he's made that abundantly clear." Morgan said with an exasperated laugh. "But I'll take good care of him." A sense of pride and determination entered his voice. "He's like a brother to me. He'll have whatever he needs."

"I have no doubt." Dr. Marston stated confidently.

She had worked with a few law enforcement professionals in the past, but none who had impressed her as much as the man in front of her. His dedication and unquestioning loyalty to his colleague was admirable. The devotion of the whole team was admirable in fact. Any doubts she had about Dr. Reid's recovery were always quieted upon considering the strength of those around him. Even if she doubted his strength of character at times – which she knew was unfair, she didn't actually know him – she knew that his colleagues had him more than covered.

"So…. Are we good to go?" Morgan asked, almost impatiently now.

"Yes! Absolutely. There is a wheelchair in the corridor." She said, opening the door to allow the agent to exit.

Morgan stopped at the door and turned to both women.

"Thank you both, for everything. It's been tough, I know."

Ruth shook his hand.

"Not as tough as it has been for him…. Or you." She smiled.

Morgan appeared introspective for a few moments.

"I think… the hardest part… is how much I miss him."

Ruth nodded a little.

"His brain, I mean, you have no idea." Morgan chuckled. "It runs at a thousand miles an hour. He makes connections before I've even had chance to start looking. The hours of my life I have lost to him going off on some fact-filled tangent or listening to him reel off information like some walking encyclopedia. I've wanted to strangle him." He looked guilty. "But right now, I would give anything to see him again."

Ruth put a comforting hand to his arm.

"You will. Just give it time."

Morgan looked to the floor, giving a small nod. He looked to both women and thanked them again then left to collect his friend.

Reid sat staring at his fidgeting hands.

The thought of leaving the hospital and going home with Morgan filled him with dread. But something about admitting that he didn't feel safe, even around Morgan, had given him a sense of relief. Saying it out loud, actually recognising that was what his addled brain was telling him, somehow slapped him in the face with how ridiculous it was.

Sitting in the safety of the locked bathroom had given him chance to allow his brain to calm down, to put things into perspective a little. That was why he had gone back to grab the pillow. It felt peaceful.

The ridiculousness of how his brain had been working, or not as the case may be, had hit him hard. All logic had deserted him.

Logic dictates that if you have no evidence of wrongdoing, no patterns of behaviour, no motive, then you have no unsub. Yet he didn't trust the team. They had tried to talk to him. They had tried to help him when he thought he was losing his mind. But he had pushed them away, choosing to trust Jason with his fears because it was easier than letting himself be vulnerable in front of the only people who truly cared about him. Because he was scared that they might view him differently, his status as a decorated agent might become marred with doubt, that they wouldn't trust him anymore.

How had that helped him? He had never been more vulnerable in his life. He had taken Jason's word as gospel, because he was so desperate to not be 'babied' and be seen to be supporting himself. And still, they were here. Despite the hitting out, the insults, the accusations, they all had the patience to still put up with him and even care about him. They hadn't judged him, they didn't blame him and they didn't appear to be disgusted by him despite how weak he had shown himself to be. This realisation, thanks to the security of the bathroom, had allowed him the first truly peaceful sleep he'd had in over a week.

Reid smiled a little to himself. He really did love the team - his friends. No, his family. And he was grateful, even if this moment of clarity was only temporary - logic and knowledge of PTSD dictated it probably was - he was grateful.

Morgan suddenly filled the doorway, wheelchair in front of him, a beaming smile on his face and a fist held up in a small celebratory gesture.

"Let's get you the hell out of here."

Looking up at his colleague- no, best friend – a smile graced his lips and for the first time, Reid let out a genuine laugh.