A/N: Hello once again, my friends! Hope you are all well. Here is my entry for the March Madness Challenge on the Chit Chat On Author's Corner Forum. Special thanks to my pal Cinny for reading over this for me. I'm not at all comfortable writing Reid, and Cinny is the master! So thanks for your input. This story also mentions events from Episode 2x15 - "Revelations", Episode 3x16 - "Elephant's Memory", and Episode 6x18 - "Lauren". I hope you all enjoy it. Happy reading!

Special thanks to LoveforPenandDerek for the prompt. Probably not what you expected, but it's the first thing that popped into my mind. Hope you like it!

Pairing: Prentiss/Reid

TV Show Title Prompt: "Hotel"

Two and a half years ago…

Spencer Reid sat on the uncomfortable bed staring at the bland walls of some seedy, no-name hotel located in a shady part of Washington D.C. that no ordinary person would ever feel comfortable in. Ever. Drug dealers and hookers stood on street corners and trash lined the gutters. Graffiti coated the walls of run-down businesses and dilapidated buildings.

Inside room 303, one desperate FBI Profiler sat alone, fighting a seemingly futile battle against his darkest, most dangerous demon as it once again reared its ugly head. Sweat poured from his brow as his hands shook and his right arm burned with need, begging him for the one thing that he knew would ease his current suffering but cause immeasurable torture later.

It was there, right in front of him, within arm's reach. The little vial, the syringe, both on the nightstand, taunting him as he struggled to find one strand of hope to cling to, to keep from once again entering that realm of darkness. Two hours he'd stared back and forth between the vial and the wall, sometimes glancing at his cell phone, which lay at the foot of the bed.

He thought about calling one of them, but he was afraid. He didn't want them to see him like this. He didn't want them to think he was weak. He needed them to believe that he was in control of his addiction, that he had overcome it, that he was a fighter. But as his weary eyes found his shaking hands once more, he knew he was in trouble. He had absently collected the vial and syringe from the nightstand and had halfway removed the protective cap from the needle with no realization or recollection of the action. He knew he needed help. He dropped the vial and syringe back on the nightstand and reached for his phone. He called the one person who'd had the guts to confront him about his behavior during the worst of his addiction, the one person who he knew wouldn't judge him or try to 'fix' him, but would be there for him and help him with his fight. He nervously waited for her to answer. When she did, his weak, exhausted voice broke.

"Emily. I need your help."

She could hear the borderline panic in his voice. "Reid? Is that you? Are you alright?"

"I… uh… I don't think so."

She was already up and reaching for her jacket and car keys. "Where are you? Are you at your apartment?"

"No. I'm… I'm at a hotel."

He gave her the name of the hotel and room number. She knew of the area and didn't like the thought of him going there to escape alone. It was a dangerous part of town for anyone, including trained FBI Agents. Especially one who may not be on his game. She was out the door in no time.

"Spencer, I want you to call the front desk and tell them I'm coming. Tell them to give me a key to your room. I'm on my way."

Within half an hour, Emily Prentiss was entering the dark, dingy hotel. She shook her head at how desperate Reid must have been to seek out this place as an escape. Thankful she'd remembered to arm herself, she retrieved her key from the front desk and quickly found Reid's room. She knocked quickly.

"Reid? It's Emily. I'm coming in."

She entered the room slowly. It was dimly lit by a bedside lamp. She gave her eyes a moment to adjust before moving farther into the room. She found Reid sitting on one of the beds, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. His left hand was continuously rubbing and scratching at his right elbow, where the scars of his forced addiction resided. She knelt in front of him.

"What happened, Spencer? What brought this on?"

"Owen Savage," he muttered. "I can't get him out of my head."

"That case was months ago. Why now?" She continued to watch his hand as he rubbed his arm.

"Everything he went through. Everything he endured. I know what he felt like. I was him." His voice shook as he spoke. "I know what it's like to just want that pain to end."

He was still sweating and slightly shaking. She saw the vial and syringe on the nightstand. The vial still looked full, but the protective cap was off the needle.

"Did you take anything, Reid?"

He shook his head.

"Good."

She stood and took the vial and syringe from the nightstand, replacing the covering over the needle before placing them in her bag.

"I don't want to lose my job."

His statement surprised her. "What are you talking about?"

"This job is all I have. You guys are my family. I don't want Hotch to fire me."

"You know he wouldn't do that, Reid."

"I know," he replied, "but if Strauss finds out about this, she'll force him to. He won't have a choice. I don't want to lose my job."

"She'll never find out. I promise. None of us will let that happen." She put her hand over his and he finally stopped scratching at his elbow. He finally looked up at her and met her eyes. She could see the pain, the fear residing within him. She could see how hard he was fighting to stay in control.

"Reid, I need to ask you something and I need you to be completely honest with me."

He nodded his agreement.

"Have you ever relapsed?"

He looked momentarily confused. "What do you mean?"

"Since you initially quit using and got help, started going to meetings, have you ever relapsed?"

"No."

"Good. I'm not going to let you start today. We're going to beat this together, okay?"

He took a shaky deep breath. "Okay."

"Okay. I want you to lie down."

He did as she asked and closed his eyes. His entire body was tense and he was still sweating and shaking slightly. She draped a cool washcloth over his forehead.

"Recite the Periodic Table of Elements."

He opened his eyes and stared at her, utterly confused. "What?"

She chuckled faintly, understanding that it was an unusual request. "Science, Mathematics, Statistics, these are things that calm and relax you. They make you feel in control, right?"

"Yes."

"We want to make sure you stay in control right now. So close your eyes and recite the Periodic Table."

"Hydrogen Helium Lithium Beryllium Boron Carbon…" he began rattling off elements so quickly they ran together like one really long, complicated word.

"Slow down," she interrupted. "Take some deep breaths. Let it calm you. It's not a race. We've got all night."

He did as she instructed. He took a deep breath and continued.

"Oxygen. Nitrogen. Fluorine. Neon…"

She sat next to him and began slowly, gently massaging his right arm at the bend of his elbow. Her thumbs worked to relieve the painful burn and sting of want and need.

"Sodium. Magnesium. Aluminum. Silicon. Phosphorus…"

She stared at him in wonderment as he recited the first fifteen elements as if the Periodic Chart was directly in front of him. She couldn't help the smile that graced her face when she thought about the beautiful mind of her young friend. He constantly amazed her. And yet, at times he was still a fragile kid who simply needed someone to guide him.

"Sulfur. Chlorine. Argon. Potassium. Calcium..."

She could hear him relaxing. The tense tone of his voice began to soften. The muscles in his body, especially his arm, began to relax. She took this opportunity to remind him of a few things as he continued to recite the elements of the Periodic Table in perfect order.

"You are stronger than Dilaudid," she whispered to him. "You will beat this."

"Scandium. Titanium. Vanadium…"

"You are strong and you will win."

"Chromium. Manganese. Iron. Cobalt…"

"You will win."

She continued to whisper encouragement to him as she massaged his arm. Before long she noticed his recitation had stopped. He'd fallen asleep. There was a look of peace and tranquility on his face she hadn't seen from the young genius in months. She smiled at him, brushing his hair out of his face. She pulled up a chair and made herself as comfortable as possible. She watched over him for the rest of the night.

Present day…

He sighed wearily as he stepped away from the tree and closer to her grave. He hadn't been here since her funeral. He didn't want to face it. But he needed to tell her a few things in person. He owed her that much.

"I'm sorry, Emily. You helped me so many times in so many ways. I've lost count of all the times you protected me. And the one time you needed me the most, I was too slow. If only I had put it together sooner, realized who Lauren Reynolds really was, we could have gotten there in time. I'm so sorry I let you down."

He hung his head, fighting against the lump that formed in his throat. One stray tear escaped his eye. He brushed it away quickly. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a single gold coin. Twirling it in his fingers, he shared his good news with her.

"I got this at my last meeting. Three years, Emily. It's been three years since I shot up. I never would have gotten this if it weren't for you. You saved me that night, Emily. You saved my sobriety, my career, my future. You saved my life. You've always been there for me, Emily. This belongs to you."

He placed his '3-Year Sobriety' coin on the ground, propped up against her gravestone. He brushed away the stray dirt and grass, and sighed again.

"I promise you, we'll find Ian Doyle. We'll get him for you. I know it won't bring you back, but at least you'll know he can't hurt anyone else. And he'll never get to Declan. I promise, Emily. I won't let you down this time."

He stood, once again wiping a stray tear from his face.

"I miss you so much."

And he turned to walk away, leaving his friend and confidant to rest.