I don't own this fine show or these fine characters if I did, Maeve would never have died and Reid would have had a life outside the BAU.

XCriminalXMindsX

"Agent Gideon." He sad curtly, his eyes never swaying from the man in front of him. To be honest with himself, he had to admit, time away from Quantico had obviously suited him well. His eyes were lighter, his hair was a tab bit longer and his skin was slightly tanned. His face held a light smile - most probably unintentional. If in were in fact intentional - well let's not even go there.

"It's just Jason, now, Agent Rossi. Has been for a long time." His eyes shifted slightly, to the glowing hospital sign. The smile faltered then disappeared all together. "Why don't we get started."

"The preliminary profile indicated a team of at least two individuals - maybe three. The dominant male appears to have a severe form of Antisocial Personality disorder. He probably controls his partner or partners with charismatic coercion. This would have been the man, whom is white between the ages of thirty-five to forty-five, I saw at the hospital. I provided a sketch and had Garcia check, and she wasn't able to come up anything substantial." He paused, most probably surprised with the ease in which the leader, the agent had come out in him. Yes, Rossi knew that there was an unspoken rule to sustain from profiling other members of the team, but Jason Gideon was no longer on this team, now was he? "We were never able to identify the man, but I've kept the sketch with Garcia and have a copy of my own."

He pulled out a piece of paper from the folder in his left hand. The sketch overall was rather, well, vague. The man had his hair slicked back, his eyes small in proportion the rest of his face. His jaw angular with stubble lining the outskirts. "You don't have anything more substantial" Once the words came out of his mouth, he knew it probably wasn't the most professional thing to say.

Gideon must have recognized the tone but didn't comment. "No, unfortunately. I saw him only briefly. There were other pressing matters." The tone was calm, no hint of bitterness.

Rossi looked at the man, waiting for him to continue.

XCriminalXMindsX

There were times in Spencer Reid's life when he felt both self loathing and guilt. Because Reid didn't truly get depressed, no not really. Instead of the depression came the self hatred from which he quickly, and always felt guilty about afterwards. But the guilt didn't stop his self loathing, in fact not much did. He knew he was a horrible person - his team would eventually see it too.

That must be the reason it was so hard for him to keep friends. All you would have to do was look at his history. Who puts their mother in a mental institution the day after their eighteenth birthday? Him, he did. And he deserves every bad thing that happens to him. Morgan, always trying to look out after him. If only he knew what he was trying to protect.

When he feels like this, he wishes. He wishes he could just be normal. If he were normal his father won' have left. Because he wanted a normal son, and told him many, many times. He also wishes he knew what to say. Keeping conversations with people was not a strong suit and he usually said the absolute wrong thing.

No. Spencer Reid didn't always feel like this, normally when he was surrounded by his friends he felt just the opposite in fact. But in moments like this when he felt awake, because he thought he was, he could hear the pain he had caused his team. It always confirmed he was the monster he always thought he was. He could hear it laced in their voices.

He could hear Emily talking to him and he could hear other noises too. A cardiac monitor, a sound he would never forget, and shuffling. Feet walking back and forth. And Emily. She was crying, asking him to be ok.

He knew it must have been his fault, for whatever reason he was here. And we would remember eventually. But he couldn't right now. Maybe he had done something stupid like walking and reading and stepped right in front of a bus or train or maybe even an airplane. He always sees the airplanes driving up and down his street. The happy and sad clowns waving at him and each other. Always as they drove their airplanes. He even saw one where a particularly anger clown had driven his airplane into the jet on the other side of the road. That was not nice at all. He hoped the very serious clown in the jet would be okay… He wanted to scream at the angry clown with his slicked back red hair and his almost beard.

Don't punch the cat! Damn angry clown with his slicked back hair. Where did that big cat with his tall red hat come from?

Someone was talking to him again. It was Emily. He could never forget her voice. She was sad. Emily! Don't Cry!. How dare that tall cat in his red hat make her cry! He hated Cats! And he hated Clowns!

"Please be okay Reid. We could really use your brain right now." She would do anything to hear a statistic, any statistic really. Just anything from boy wonders mouth. The term her head came up with, bringing her attention to the man only a few doors down. The ICU wasn't known for being particularly large in any hospital setting, leaving the three male team members close together.

Rossi had gone down to talk to Gideon nearly an hour ago. She had wanted to stay with Reid. JJ had needed to settle Will, something to be expected after thinking your child's mother had gotten killed in an explosion while Garcia had wanted to stay with "brown sugar" incase he ever decided to open those 'chocolate brown eyes'. She was almost able to show a hint of a smile. Almost.

XCriminalXMindsX

"Do you think that the unsubs had any previous history with either Reid or Hotch?"

"It's possible. Even probable. But he could have latched on them at anytime for any reason. He most probably followed and stalked them for months."

"Then why did he take such a long break between the first attack and the second. In prison for a previous unrelated crime?"

"Or planning his next attack, with careful precision. He's probably watching the news as we speak to confirm that both Hotch and Reid are dead. When he finds out that they're haven't died, he will most likely try again."

"I don't see him waiting years to perfect another plan."

"I agree. We need to get uniforms guarding the rooms, monitoring twenty-four hours a day."

And with that David Rossi returned back into the building just to make sure, with his own eyes that his men, were all unharmed - well no more harmed then before.

He just had to make sure.

XCriminalXMindsX

A moment of clarity. Between the fever and the opiod analgesics, this particular moment was a first since he had been taken to the hospital. According to the nurse less twenty-seven hours ago.

He knew about meningitis, his baby brother had had it when he was seven. Aaron had only been twelve at the time. His mother had stayed with Sean in the hospital, and staying with his father at home was not an option. So Aaron had rode his bike the library every day for the two weeks, while Sean was in the hospital. He researched everything he could find. Skewered dozens of book for any information.

And because of this he knew that because he was being treated early, that actually dying from meningitis dropped to about a 15% chance.

The part of him, that selfish part thought that death would be a better option then this. This headache (headache - seemed like to light a word) was not even close in describing this excruciating pain radiating from the top of his head to the base of his neck.

He tried to recall the events leading up to the explosion (at least that's what he thought it was, he vaguely remembered someone mentioning it too him sometimes with in the last day or so) but only seemed to remember brief, scattered moments.

He and Reid were talking, going over the geographical profile. Reid had triangulated the unsubs location to a thirty mile radius and he was just going to describe his idea of a way to become more exact in his estimates. Then nothing. Not one thing.

Trying to recall any information only amplified the pain, so he immidently stopped the attempted recall.

The door opened slightly and light flooded in. Even the brief amount was horrible. Photophobia. Damn.

The light only added to the convulsions that were wracking his body. Convulsions not from pain, but instead from heat. His body felt so hot. Like someone had wrapped him in a heating blanket and left him in the middle of the Nevada desert on a hot August day. The type of day were dogs wouldn't leave the shade even for a brief moment.

The door opened further, and Dave stepped in. His face had a cut on the side if his head about an inch long. Bruises outlined the cut and appeared on the bottom of his jaw line. Dark circles looked permanently painted under his eyes. Even his hair, usually immaculate looked dirty and disheveled.

Overall, he looked like hell.

"Hey Aaron" He voiced just above a whisper "How are you feeling?"

He ignored the question and when he spoke his voice came out in a raspy, gravel filled voice. "An explos-ion?" He took a long shuddering breathe "Wh-ere 's erv- one elsss?"

"Everyone is going to be fine." Liar. "We think everyone is going to be ok." Better.

"Tr-oo-th" Hotch gasped, his eyes blazing in time with the fever that wracked his body.

"Hotch you need to calm okay. We need you to me ok." He drew a deep breathe. "JJ, Emily and I are all fine except for some bumps and bruises. Morgan had a punctured lung, but they were able to fix it, and he's going to be just fine." Probably. "And Reid has some bleeding, but he's young and a fighter. He'll be up and at'um in no time."

Aaron's eyes were glazed over, the fever once again over taking his body. Most probably not even registering a large portion of what Rossi had said. "Sleep Aaron. This team -" family " - is fighting for you three." We're going to find this bastard. Make my word.

XCriminalXMindsX

Well, this is probably going to be it for a week or two. So I wanted to get this out while I had time. I hope everyone enjoys it.

I've had a horrible, horrible day and reviews are like ice cubes in the Nevada desert in the middle of August. Reviews really do mean the world to me and they help me get inspiration to write. Anyone who has stories on here know who precious they are.

I read over it and corrected any mistakes I found. So please forgive any you might spot.