Chapter One: Why You Always Lying?

"Every sickness has an alien quality, a feeling of invasion and loss of control that is evident in the language we use about it." ― Siri Hustvedt

It was the extremely bothersome buzzing of his phone that finally got Reid to drag himself out of his cocoon of blankets and comfort. He'd awakened a few times during the night to vomit or get a cup of water for his headache, and he had not received enough sleep to function properly.

Pushing off his blankets, he pursed her lips together at the sudden burst of cold.

His hand shakily picked up his phone, and with a headache already searing through his head, his eyes had not been prepared for the sudden burst of light that was caused by his phone. Reid took a second to adjust to the brightness before reading the text message.

Damn it.

Another case.

Spencer Reid was not one to question whether or not to come into work. It didn't matter what he was going through if he was able to help others. His mom's medication wasn't helping? Didn't keep him from work. Migraines? Didn't keep him from work. And yet; he felt awful. Actually, awful was an understatement. Reid felt like he might as well start shopping for coffins. Was that premature?

Groaning, he buried his face in his hands. The cold phone pressed against his head, he almost felt slightly better. Before it hummed again and he was compelled to read the message. But instead of a message, someone was calling him. Great. It was now or never to call in from work.

"Hey," Spencer murmured, sitting on the floor and leaning against his bed. Moving to the bed seemed like way too much work.

Hotch's voice was way too loud, "Reid," he sounded kind of relieved. What time was it? Spencer didn't bother checking, his eyes just closed as he tried to focus on what he was going to say. Sorry, I'm sick so I'm just gonna put catching serial killers on hold for my own selfish reasons. "Where are you? The team's been trying to get ahold of you for the past ten minutes."

Guilt wafted through Reid because honestly, he hadn't meant to worry anyone. "Oh, sorry. I slept in and my phone was on silent." What harm could a little white lie do? After all, his phone very well could've been on silent. He hadn't heard it until just a few seconds ago.

"Well we've got a case," Hotch's relief had suddenly been replaced with annoyance. Reid winced, and not because of his headache or the freezing cold room he was stuck in. "He slept in." the unit chief murmured, his voice muffled. Reid guessed he was explaining Spencer's absence to the team. "When can we expect you?" Hotch asked, words once again directed toward Reid.

Spencer didn't know exactly what made him do it. But fuck health*, right? "Ten minutes? I'll hurry. Sorry again."

"Don't apologize, just be sure to wake up next time."

The phone line went dead and Spencer let the phone drop out of his hands and hit the ground. Even that sound made him flinch. At first, Reid thought his migraines had been returning. A lot of his symptoms added up to them; headache, nausea, fatigue. But he wasn't sensitive to light, and he had a fever. Fevers were a fairly rare symptom of migraines.

Besides, he hadn't had a migraine in months. Dr. Donovan had helped him. He kind of regretted not staying in touch with the doctor, but not enough to strike up a conversation with her after.. two months? It wouldn't go anywhere. Reid didn't want a relationship.

Getting to his feet, the young doctor tried to ignore the fact that he had to lean heavily against his nightstand to stay upright. After a couple of seconds, he felt… okay enough to start a very rushed morning routine. At least he didn't have to shower because he had the night before.

Three times.

None of which had helped, by the way. Just upped his water bill.

Showing up for work thirty minutes late, yes thirty, was not something Reid enjoyed. He'd gotten stuck in traffic and his ten minutes away had turned into twenty. But no matter why, Spencer didn't like it.

Didn't like that awkward moment of silence that happened when you walked into the room. Which had been a leading reason why he never missed or was late to school. Quickly taking a seat, Reid swallowed, trying to ignore the fact that even that hurt. Morgan looked up from his cards, which he'd been playing with Emily and Rossi.

"Sorry guys," Reid whispered under his breath.

"What happened? Late night?" Morgan teased. Spencer, not seeming to appreciate his joke, just turned his gaze to Hotch. Yeah, late night, Morgan. Just not in the way he was implying. Throwing up and feeling like you're dying from a fever was not nearly the same as the kind of 'late nights' Morgan had.

Hotch cleared his throat, sending Reid a slightly concerned, but mainly annoyed, look. "Now that we're all here... Go ahead, Garcia."

Penelope jumped to her feet, her deck of cards slapping against the table. Oh, so she'd been playing too. "I won just so you all know," Garcia commented. Rossi opened his mouth to interfere but was silenced but a very scary look from the supposed winner. "Anywho… hang onto your mothers because we have three deaths in Park City, Utah," the young woman clicked through the slideshow on the screen. Three women popped up. "Gretchen, Ashley, and Helen. All mothers with-"

"-red hair," JJ spoke up, her eyes narrowing in thought. Garcia nodded.

It was around this time that Reid leaned heavily on the back of his chair. His eyebrows knitted together as he fought an exhalation of pain. His stomach wasn't hurting as bad as before, but by god did he have a fever. He sank deeper into his jacket to fight the cold feeling that gripped his body.

Yes, he was wearing a jacket. Yes, it was large and warm. Yes, it was May. Why do you ask?

"Reid?" somebody asked, jolting the doctor out of his own pitying state. His face flushed with embarrassment. "What do you think?"

Shit. What had been discussed? Reid's gaze flew to the screen as he tried to catch up. "Um, whoever's done this has a lot of rage toward…" What did all these women have in common? His gaze caught on to Emily, who mouthed the answer to him. "...towards mothers."

Hotch didn't seem impressed.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air before Morgan spoke up, "Didja ever wake up? Or have you been snoozing for the past half hour?" Rossi laughed, so did Garcia. Hotch didn't. Reid didn't.

"Is something wrong?" Aaron asked, ignoring Derek's light-hearted comment altogether.

Now would be a good time to fess up. A really, really good time. "No? I'm fine. I woke up not too long ago, I'm tired, okay?" Or not. Spencer hadn't wanted to come across in a short-tempered manner, but here he was. Digging his own grave. Was it bad that he wouldn't mind sleeping in that grave right about now?

Everyone grew really silent. And then it hit him.

They thought…

Well, could he really blame them? The indicators were all there.

Sleeping in, crappy appearance, his irritability. They thought he was having Dilaudid withdrawals. Possibly even taking it. Which he wasn't. He just had a fever or something. Spencer sighed, rubbing at his temples. "That's not it. I'm just tired," Reid licked his lips, unsure whether or not to add on. Deciding that he should, Spencer continued his lie. "My mom's been having some trouble and I was on the phone with some of her doctors*. I didn't sleep well."

There you go. Mention your schizophrenic mother and everyone shuts up because there's no way to gauge if that's the truth or not without questioning you further. Profilers as friends may suck, but at least they had the decency not to push for information on some matters.

"Oh. I'm sorry, kid, I didn't know…" Morgan murmured, seeming guilty. Hotch too looked slightly uncomfortable and quite regretful.

Reid just shrugged, wanting to drop the subject. He felt bad lying, but they'd just send him home and worry about him if they figured out he was sick. "We found out a solution and she's doing better already. Don't worry," he didn't like them fussing about him.

But maybe they should be.

The rest of the meeting only lasted a few more minutes, with Garcia giving out a bit more information that Reid's brain couldn't comprehend. He'd ended spacing out every few seconds and only managed to grasp less than half of the information given.

Wracking his mind in an attempt to remember what Penelope had said, Reid jerked in surprise when somebody grabbed his arm. It took him a moment to figure out it was only Hotch. Reid relaxed slightly.

Had Hotch seen through his bluff?

Morgan cast the two a concerned look before slipping out of the room. Leaving Spencer alone with Hotch. Carefully, the doctor slipped out of the unit chief's grip. "What?" he croaked.

Hotch hesitated, like he wasn't sure himself. "Are you okay? As your boss, I need to know if something's wrong,"

Oh. So he didn't know Reid was lying for sure. Reid's face scrunched up for a moment and he rubbed at his eye. "Yeah, I'm okay," He assured, casting out another perfect chance to fess up. "I really am just tired." Spencer continued, which actually wasn't a lie. He was super tired. A thought washed through his mind. Do it, Hotch. Call me out. Forbid me from going. Don't make me go.

"Do you have a migraine?" Hotch asked suddenly.

That took Spencer by surprise, and he shook his head. "No, no, that's not it…" Reid forced himself not to rub at his head and make himself even more suspicious. Why did he even want to go? Didn't he have the right to take a sick day every once in a while? Did he always have to work without a break?

But didn't people have the right to be protected by killers?

"Reid," the unit chief pressed. His voice was cold, but emotion was worming its way into his words. Slight worry, unsureness even. "Look at me."

Spencer did.

"Do you have a migraine?" Aaron asked again once Reid was looking him in the eye. This way, the profiler could examine his actions and decide on a way to handle things. It always seemed like Hotch was doing that. Thinking through absolutely everything, always wanted the truth. When Spencer found that he couldn't blame the man, he felt guilt flicker through him.

There was a slight pause before Spencer answered. He was trying to figure out if he did have a migraine. He had thought not, but wasn't it possible? Cold prickled at his skin, as if reminding him that no, fever was not a migraine symptom.

"No. I don't."

Other people needed they're lives to be saved. He couldn't be selfish.

"Men are never convinced of your reasons, of your sincerity, of the seriousness of your sufferings, except by your death. So long as you are alive, your case is doubtful; you have a right only to their skepticism." -Albert Camus

*Don't listen to Reid on this one, take care of your health

**Yes, Reid thinks that pretending his mom isn't doing so well is better than telling the team he's sick. We'll go with the fact that he's not thinking straight.

A/N: Anyway, new book! Should be about ten chapters if I've planned correctly. It's gonna be a gen fic, no romance because I don't think it'd fit with my idea. There'll be no main character deaths, and I'm not telling you what Reid has until probably the last chapter or so. Unless you guess it correctly in the comments, if you do then I'll reveal what it is. This takes place about the end of season seven. Like almost all of my fanfictions; no Ian Doyle stuff and no JJ leaving. Please review! Especially if you have any questions!