A/N: This chapter contains a detailed description of a meltdown and an incident of someone faking a disability to get accommodations for another disability (on behalf of someone else). Hope you enjoy!

Reid would've been fine.

He would've been fine running on no sleep for 36 hours (and not being out of earshot of other human beings for a single second of that time). He would've been fine forcing himself to make eye contact with the local police during the briefing (it was part of the job, and such a familiar act it was scarcely even uncomfortable anymore). He would have been fine with the sudden change of plans that sent the team here in the first place (that was so common it barely even registered). He would have been fine with the relative stranger occupying the space where Elle should be (she seemed nice enough, and certainly competent).

Really, he would've been fine.

But then someone bumped into him in the hallway—full-on body-slam—and that was the last straw.

Normally, Reid had no problem with physical contact. But he needed to know it was coming, and he needed to trust the person he was coming into contact with.

Being unexpectedly slammed into by a stranger when he was already on edge was a recipe for disaster.

When the man in the hallway collided with him, Reid's world blanked out for a second. His upper body froze on pure instinct, and his legs stumbled backward to keep his balance. His hands moved up toward his face.

Dimly, he heard the man say, sorry.

Reid knew he was supposed to apologize as well. It was what happened when two people bumped into each other—both muttered "sorry" and went on their way.

I'm sorry, Reid tried to say. What came out was "I... I... I...", although it sounded more like "ah... ah... ah..."

Great.

The man gave him a look and walked away.

Reid was suddenly very aware of the buzz and glare of the fluorescent lights, the smell of bad coffee from down the hall, the way his shirt was itchy at the collar, and the fact that the man who'd bumped into him hadn't been wearing deodorant. He could hear people talking from the rooms off the hallway, but he couldn't make out any of the words. The voices just overlapped into a cacophony of chatter.

Reid could feel tears starting to prick at his eyes, and he fiercely blinked them away. He wasn't a child anymore, and he wasn't alone at home where he could fall apart in privacy. He was a grown man, in a police station full of strangers, and he could hold this off for the time it took to get himself out of sight.

When he'd arrived, Reid had scoped the station out for places to be alone. There was a single-user bathroom not far from where he was. As quickly as he could without looking suspicious, Reid made his way down the hall, trying to keep his expression neutral.

"Hey," asked an officer, "are you all right?"

"Fine," Reid heard his voice say. Thank you. Years of experience meant that his mouth and his brain sometimes split apart completely when he was on the verge of breaking down. He couldn't have made himself answer, but his mouth could go on autopilot and answer for him. Nothing complicated, but enough to allay suspicion. For a little while.

By the time he got to the single-user bathroom, Reid was shaking slightly. His face was contorted, and he was fighting to keep the tears back.

The bathroom was closed for cleaning.

Reid took a moment to mentally cuss out his situation, then took a deep, shaky breath. Plan. Make a plan.

Reid mentally mapped out the building, but there wasn't really anyplace else he could hide. It was a small precinct, underfunded, with no money to spare on extra rooms.

Gideon said to get himself somewhere safe... Gideon.

Having someone on his side who knew what was happening and could talk could make a lot of difference to his situation. Assuming he wasn't busy. Which he almost certainly was.

Reid took another deep breath and went to find Gideon.

Gideon, miracle of miracles, wasn't busy. Well, that was a lie. He was busy. He just wasn't busy with other people.

He was staring at the board with photos of the victims and crime scenes pinned up on it. There were other people in the room, but they weren't talking to Gideon.

That was all Reid needed. He walked up to Gideon with an apologetic look on his face and waved a hand in front of his line of sight. Once he had Gideon's attention, he made the fingers of one hand into a point, brought it to chest level, and popped his hand open.

"Gotcha," said Gideon. "Bathroom's closed for cleaning?"

Reid nodded.

"Well, I can fix that. Sorry there's noplace better."

Reid gave Gideon what he hoped was a grateful look, although he wasn't sure how well any of his facial expressions were working at the moment.

Gideon stood and gestured for Reid to follow. Momentarily, they arrived at the single-user bathroom.

Gideon knocked on the doorframe.

The janitor emerged. "Bathroom's closed," he said.

Reid's head was swimming, but he could hear Gideon saying something about my agent is diabetic, needs to administer insulin, could you come back and finish cleaning later?

And the janitor was saying wow, he doesn't look too good, yeah, I can come back, and leaving with the closed for cleaning sign.

Reid rushed into the bathroom, slammed the door behind him, and locked it. Then, he turned off the bathroom light, collapsed to the ground and finally let the tears fall.

Reid's whole body was shaking, and he had to bite his lip to keep from sobbing out loud (he wished he could sob, wail, scream, but this bathroom was anything but soundproof and that would draw attention he really didn't need).

So he just cried, as quietly as he could, as he hugged his knees and rocked back and forth on the bathroom floor.

Eventually, the tears slowed, then stopped altogether.

Reid took a deep breath. He felt much better—more grounded in his own body.

Just to be sure, Reid stood up, turned on the light (which didn't bother him nearly as much as it had before, despite being a fluorescent of the worst kind), and spun around in circles until he was too dizzy to continue.

Once he was done with that, Reid gripped the sink until the world stopped spinning, then looked at himself in the mirror.

The tear traces were mostly gone from his face, although his eyes were still a bit red. Reid splashed some cold water on his face and decided to leave it be. He'd been gone long enough.

One more thing.

"The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel," Reid recited to the mirror.

Good. He could speak. Still to be determined whether he could speak to people, but it was a start.

Reid unlocked the bathroom door and slowly pushed it open.

The hall outside the bathroom was empty. Good.

He walked down the hall and found his team in a meeting in a conference room.

"Hey guys," he said, closing the door behind him and making his way to the seat they'd saved for him. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's all right," said Gideon. "As I was saying..."

After the meeting, Gideon came up to Reid.

"You all right?" he asked.

Reid nodded. "Yes."

"Investigation's stalled. Go to your hotel room and try to get some sleep," said Gideon.

"Are you sure you don't need me?" asked Reid.

"We'll call you if we do," said Gideon. "Now go. Sleep."

Reid did.

A/N: Hello again! I hope you liked this! It was based heavily on my own personal experience with meltdowns, so here's hoping it resonates with some of you. I hope you have a wonderful day!