Author's Note: Thank you to all who have reviewed. And a special thank you to greenwich who helped me finish this.

Chapter Twelve

Three weeks after Reid had first been admitted, Gideon came for a regular visit. He hadn't been for a few days and was keen to see how the young man was getting on. He had called everyday for an update when the team were away and Pete had filled him in whenever he was there, but he wanted to see Reid for himself.

Gideon pulled off his scarf and gloves as Pete led him into the dayroom. He had realised that Pete knew he wasn't actually Reid's father and he reckoned Pete knew that he knew. But neither of them mentioned it.

Pete pointed to a chair by the window and Gideon strolled over. Reid was sat cross legged in the chair, looking intently through the glass. His long fingers drummed quietly on the arms of the chair. His face, so gaunt when they had found him, looked rounder, softer.

Gideon cleared his throat. Reid looked up and gave him a faint smile. It was the first time Gideon had seen him smile since the day he disappeared.

"Hey," said Reid in a soft voice.

Gideon sat down next to him. "Hey yourself," he replied. "How are you doing?"

"Better," said the young man, and then he returned to looking through the window.

Gideon didn't push him. He was happy to sit in silence for as long as it took. Around him, patients were chatting, playing games and watching TV. Reid was sitting away from the others, with his back to the rest of the room.

Eventually Reid turned back to Gideon. "I guess this is it," he said quietly. "I always knew this was coming, I just didn't expect it to happen so quickly."

"What do you mean," asked Gideon, keeping his voice steady.

"I'm taking Risperadol," replied Reid patiently. "Six milligrams a day. It's America's first choice antipsychotic and I'm on a pretty high dose."

"And?" responded Gideon.

The young man's eyebrows rose. "Do you think there's anything I don't know about antipsychotic medication?"

"Have some of the side effects settled down yet?" asked Gideon, trying to steer him away from where he thought Reid was going.

Reid gave a slight nod. "I've stopped drooling," he said, "And the tremors are better. And I guess I can stand to gain a little weight."

He looked at Gideon, making real eye contact for the first time. Gideon tried to look reassuring.

There was a pause and then Reid spoke. "You don't get prescribed these meds without being seriously crazy," he said, his voice trembling. "The thing is – how nuts am I?"

Gideon smiled at him. "Who says you're nuts?" he said lightly.

"Gideon, I'm locked in a psychiatric hospital." Reid looked down at his hands. "I can't go home. That's what happens when you're crazy."

"Have you spoken to your psychiatrist about this?" asked Gideon. "Did she make a diagnosis?"

"She doesn't have to," replied Reid with a sigh. "I have enough symptoms for it and I've already been through this with my mom. At least I understand what's wrong with me."

"Have you talked to Pete?" asked Gideon with concern. "Spencer – have you told anybody this?"

Reid shook his head. "No-one," he said. "Denial, I guess." He looked up, his eyes damp. "I thought it would be more gradual, that I would get some warning." His voice caught. "I don't even remember how it all started."

Gideon leaned forwards towards the young man, who looked so scared. "Have you talked to anybody about what happened?"

Reid shook his head again. "They all keep telling me to talk about how I'm feeling now, and what I'm going to do. I can't get it all straight in my head." He paused and rubbed hard at his eyes. "I know I thought I was being kidnapped – it all seemed so real. I didn't know it would feel so real."

Gideon sighed heavily. "Tell me what you remember," he said, "And I'll tell you what happened."

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Gideon didn't tell him everything, but he made sure Reid knew the outline of what had happened to him. Afterwards, the young profiler was pensive. He looked at Gideon intensely. "Just because some of it actually did happen, it doesn't mean I'm not nuts now," he said slowly.

"No," agreed Gideon, "But you need to give yourself time to recover. You have a genetic likelihood of schizophrenia, but you can do the math. A ten percent chance that you will means a ninety percent chance that you won't. Biology isn't your destiny, Spencer."

Reid nodded and almost smiled. Gideon took his hand and squeezed gently. "Talk to Pete, talk to your psychiatrist," he said, "And stop diagnosing yourself. Let someone else be the doctor for a change."

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"Garcia, we're here," said Morgan as he pulled into the hospital parking lot.

Garcia stopped knitting and looked up. She started to put the wool and needles away. "Let's go," she said.

She got out of the car and walked round to the trunk. When she had taken out all the bags, she came to the driver's side. She knocked on the window and Morgan lowered it.

Morgan looked at her and shook his head. "I'll wait here for you. Tell Reid I said hi."

Garcia shook her head. "No way, sugar," she replied. "You can tell him yourself."

"C'mon Garcia," whined Morgan, "I hate hospitals."

Garcia frowned at him. "So do most people. At least you get to visit and go home again. Reid's stuck in here."

Morgan looked nervously at Garcia. "I don't think I can face him," he said, "I don't know what to say to him."

"I know it's not easy," she smiled, "But he needs some friends right now."

Morgan looked down at the steering wheel. "I thought we were never going to get him back," he said sadly. "I'd given up on him. When we opened up that truck, I was sure we were going to find a body. And what we did find . . ." He looked up at Garcia. "I don't cry much, baby, but I did about that."

Garcia leaned into the car and took Morgan's hand. "That was five weeks ago. Gideon told you he is a lot better now." She smiled at him. "Christmas was last week and Reid spent it in here. The least we can do is to give him his gifts. And anyway, you have to come, because I can't carry them all!"

Reluctantly, Morgan got out of the car and took the bags. He followed Garcia across the icy cold parking lot and into the hospital.

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Reid was curled up in an armchair in the day room. He had a short break before group therapy and was glad of some time to himself. The hospital day was tightly structured, ensuring that all patients had plenty to occupy themselves with. He knew there was a point to it, but he was finding the lack of space tiring.

He looked up as Morgan and Garcia came into the day room. Garcia spotted him first and waved excitedly. He nodded at them and they came and sat down next to him.

Reid had pulled his knees up to his chest and had his arms wrapped round his body, his hands pushed into his armpits.

"How you doing, gorgeous?" asked Garcia. "We all miss you."

Reid shrugged. "I'm OK," he said softly.

"Santa has sent a whole bunch of stuff for you," continued Garcia, "He's sorry it's a bit late. The nurses have checked he didn't sneak in anything he wasn't supposed to." She thrust the first bag at him.

"Thank you," whispered Reid. He looked at Morgan who tried to smile encouragingly back.

They sat in silence for a moment. Then Garcia spoke. "Don't you want to see what you got?"

Reid uncurled and reached into the bag. He pulled out a knitted rabbit.

"That's from me," giggled Garcia. "You get to name him."

"Um, thank you," said Reid quietly. At Garcia's prompting, he continued to pull gifts from the bags. He acknowledged each one with a soft "Thank you."

Finally, Garcia handed him another bag. "This is from Hotch and Haley. Although I think Haley chose them."

Inside the bag were two soft cashmere sweaters, a pair of leather gloves, and a lavender scented pillow. The bag was from an expensive store. Morgan raised his eyebrows; the Hotchners had spent a lot of money.

Reid held the sweaters for a moment, running his fingers over the soft wool. Then he folded them carefully and replaced them in the bag. He seemed a little overwhelmed by the amount of presents he had received.

Morgan sat in silence as Garcia chatted comfortably. She seemed unfazed by Reid's monosyllabic responses. After a while, she turned to one of the nurses. "Do you think you could show me to the ladies room?" she asked him.

Morgan looked longingly after her as she followed the nurse out of the room, then turned back to Reid and gave him an embarrassed smile. He got another one in return. There was a short period of silence during which Morgan fiddled with his cell phone and Reid watched him.

"So," said Morgan suddenly, "How are they treating you?"

Reid shrugged. "OK," he muttered.

Morgan tried again. "How's the food?"

Reid frowned at him. "It's OK," he replied. "It's a hospital."

"What do you get for breakfast?" asked Morgan.

Reid frowned again. "Oatmeal. Why?"

Morgan shrugged. "Just wondered." He scratched his head and looked around the room. "You sleeping OK?"

"Sometimes," replied Reid. "If it's really bad, I get Ativan and that knocks me out for hours."

Morgan nodded. "Oh," he said. "Gideon said you have a roommate?"

Reid nodded. "Luke - he thinks he's being turned into a cat. At least he doesn't snore."

"Good," replied Morgan. "That's good." He stood up and walked to the window. He looked out for a moment, and then turned back to Reid.

"Can I see your room?" he asked.

"Um, if you want to," said Reid, looking puzzled. He got up slowly and Morgan followed him out of the dayroom.

Reid led him down the corridor and to a closed door. He opened it and gestured for Morgan to go in.

Morgan took a deep breath as he entered the room. It was small and sparsely furnished. There were two beds, one at either side of the room and two wardrobes. One bed was unmade and scattered with clothes and magazines. He walked over to the other bed and sat down. The covers were neatly folded back and there was a notebook and pen arranged on the nightstand. It was definitely Reid's.

He looked up and saw Reid shifting from one foot to another awkwardly. He had his arms wrapped round his body and he was chewing his bottom lip.

"Listen," Morgan said quickly, "Something bad happened to you and it shouldn't have done. Believe me - I am so sorry we didn't find you sooner. We tried as hard as we could. And I really hope you get better soon, because you don't deserve to be sick."

The two men looked at each other. Then Reid smiled, with real warmth this time. "Thanks for coming," he said. "I mean that."

At that moment, a nurse knocked on the door and opened it. "Spencer, you have group in five minutes," she said.

Reid looked apologetically at Morgan. "Sorry," he said. "I have group now."

"Group?" asked Morgan.

"Sitting in a circle talking to a load of other crazy people." Reid gave a sheepish smile. "Apparently it helps." His tone implied he wasn't convinced.

"We'd better find Garcia," replied Morgan and they returned to the dayroom. They found Garcia chatting to Reid's roommate.

She hurried over to Reid. "We have to get going, doll, but do you want a hug?"

Reid hesitated and was then nearly asphyxiated by Garcia throwing her arms around him and squeezing him tight. When she had finished, she took a step back and poked Morgan hard in the ribs.

Reid put his hand up to wave and then Morgan stepped forward and put his arms around the young man. "Take care of yourself," he whispered.

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Hotch was sitting at his desk, reading through the reports from the case the BAU had just finished with. The team had had a difficult time recently – the last few cases had proved extremely thorny and Reid's input had been sorely missed. Hotch had been working even longer hours than usual. He told Haley he was making up for having a missing colleague, but he knew it was just distraction. The leisure time he had was proving more stressful than his work. The guilt and frustration he still felt about Reid crept in whenever he had time to think and he was trying as hard as he could to shut them out.

Hotch looked up as Gideon came into his office. During the past few months, Gideon had been the only person Hotch felt even vaguely comfortable talking to.

"I just spoke with Reid," said Gideon, perching on the corner of Hotch's desk.

"How is he?" asked Hotch, shifting the piles of paperwork to the other side.

"He sounds low," replied Gideon. "He kept saying he wants to go home. I'm worried about him."

"When does the court order expire?" asked Hotch.

"He's been in there for three months – he could be held for another three," replied Gideon, his voice heavy. "If he wants to have the order lifted, he's going to need a lawyer."

Hotch looked at Gideon. The older agent gave him an encouraging smile and his eyebrows rose.

Hotch shook his head. "Not my area of expertise, Jason," he said quickly. "I can give you some names, but I can't do it."

"Hotch," said Gideon, leaning towards him, "You haven't even been to see him."

Hotch looked down at the files on his desk. "I've, you know, been, um," he floundered.

"Why won't you go and visit?" asked Gideon.

Hotch sighed and put his head in his hands. He groaned and then spoke, not looking up at Gideon. "I can't," he said sadly, "I can't face him. What happened to him – it was all because of me."

"C'mon Hotch," said Gideon kindly, "You know that's not true. Reid does not blame you for this."

Hotch looked up, his face pained. "Reid has been through hell because he was kind enough to give Haley a ride home. Something I asked him to do."

"And that makes it your fault?" asked Gideon. "Do you need him to yell at you?"

Hotch shrugged. "He has every right to," he said. "I guess I should let him."

"And don't you think Reid might be worried about facing you?" asked Gideon. "The last time you saw him he was covered in blood and crying for his mother. You need to let him see that you don't think any the less of him for that."

"I don't . . ." Hotch started.

"I know that, but Reid doesn't," interrupted Gideon. "You know how insecure he is – he needs your approval. The longer you leave it before you see him, the more of an issue it becomes."

"I let him down, Jason," said Hotch miserably, "I didn't stop it."

"None of us did," said Gideon. "But he survived. And now you can do something to help him."

There was silence. Hotch rested his chin on his hands and closed his eyes. He was dreading seeing Reid but he also knew he couldn't leave the young man there. He looked at Gideon, who was nodding encouragingly at him.

"But is he really well enough to be living on his own?" asked Hotch.

Gideon smiled at him. "There's a place near Mountain Lake. I spent a few weeks there – after Boston."

"Another hospital?" asked Hotch.

Gideon shook his head. "No," he replied, "It's a retreat. They have therapists – they deal mainly with post traumatic stress disorder. It'll give Reid some space and support while he gets ready to go home."

Hotch thought for a moment. "OK," he said, "I owe it to him get him out of there."

"Good," said Gideon with a smile, clapping Hotch on the shoulder. He started to walk out of the office. Then he turned back. "Oh, the hearing is in two days," said Gideon with a wink.

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Epilogue

Despite the chilly spring air, Reid lowered the car window slightly. He wanted to feel the breeze on his skin and in his hair. He pulled his coat tighter and turned to Gideon. "Do you mind?" he asked.

Gideon smiled at him. "Fresh air always does you good," he replied. "You want to put the radio on?"

Reid shook his head. "It's nice just to have some quiet," he said. "How long will it take?"

"To get to Mountain Lake?" replied Gideon, "Probably four or five hours. We'll stop somewhere nice for lunch. Is there something particular you fancy?"

Reid smiled. "Anything is going to beat hospital food. Even McDonalds." He paused. "Well, maybe not McDonalds."

Gideon laughed. "Definitely not McDonalds."

"Actually – could we get ice-cream?" asked Reid. "I haven't had ice-cream since, um." His voice trailed off and he looked down at his hands. "Not since a long time."

"Sure," replied Gideon kindly. "We can get ice-cream."

Reid looked out of the window. The buds were showing on the trees and the first flowers were peeking out amongst the hedgerows. The sunlight was still pale but there was new warmth in it. The darkness of winter was fading away and nature was reawakening with the brighter, fresher colours of spring.

Gideon turned the car up a long driveway. Both men sat in silence until he brought it to a stop. Then he turned to Reid. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

Reid bit his bottom lip and nodded.

"OK," replied Gideon, "The flowers are on the back seat. Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, thank you. I'm good," said Reid. "Is it just here?"

Gideon nodded and Reid got out of the car. He took the bunch of dark red and white roses from the back seat and walked through the graves to the one he was looking for.

He stood in front of it for a moment, reading the inscription.

In Memory of Jessica Anne Child

Died 23rd February 2006

Age 35

Reid squatted down and raked his fingers lightly over the freshly turned soil. He bent his head to the roses and inhaled their sweet scent. It was strong but there was freshness and sharpness to it. The petals felt cool and delicate against his cheeks. He had asked Gideon for these flowers specifically – white roses for innocence and crimson roses for mourning.

Reid placed the flowers gently next to the headstone. "I hope we both find some peace," he whispered.

He didn't expect many others to understand but he couldn't hate her. There had been enough pain – Jessica's need for revenge had already destroyed so much. Trying to forgive her was the biggest gift he could give himself. He needed to go forwards, to regain his life, and not be dragged back by the weight of bitterness and anger.

He stood up and took a deep breath. Then he tucked his hair behind his ear and headed back to the car.

"Ready?" asked Gideon.

"Ready," said Reid and he got into the car.

It was time to go.

THE END

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed or sent me a PM. I have really enjoyed writing this and getting some feedback has been really encouraging. There has been more vomit than I originally intended (!) and I think every team member has cried at some point – this has been a fairly dark fic. However, life is like that sometimes and thank you all for sticking with it.

I am tempted with a sequel – let me know what you thought about this one.