Author's Note: I was actually writing this before I was writing Only Human, but I was hit with such intense anger that my muse for this died. Having finished Only Human, the anger subsided enough for me to take a different approach.

If Hotch had to pick the thing he hated most about his job, he would have chosen 'being the bad guy' without a second of hesitation. He hated being the detached, professional, protocol-oriented boss. He hated pulling aside members of his team—a team which was comprised of fallible, corruptible, human people—and telling them their perfectly normal emotional responses had to be kept in check while on the clock.

He hated it, but it was a part of his job, and that meant it was unavoidable.

"You wanted to see me?"

Hotch looked up from the report he was writing and set his pen down, gesturing to the chair across from him. "Have a seat, Reid."

Reid gave a vacant nod and shuffled over to the chair, not making eye contact. He kept his gaze downward until he was sitting, but even then, he could only look at Hotch for a fraction of a second. "This is about the Birmingham case."

It wasn't a question, but Hotch answered anyway.

"Yes." He paused to take a breath, continuing as hesitantly and as gently as he could, given the circumstances. "I know things have been tense lately, and you have a right to express yourself, but you cannot act out in front of local law enforcement. They call us in because the situation is out of control, and they need to know that we are in control. If there's conflict within the team, they lose that trust, and we lose one of our best assets."

Reid swallowed thickly, gaze riveted to the carpet, hands fidgeting anxiously in his lap. "I understand."

Hotch gave a slight nod of his head, wanting to acknowledge Reid's level of comprehension. "I know you do." He was in no way, shape, or form trying to make Reid feel patronized. "You also know that speaking to JJ the way you did, while on the clock, was unacceptable. When you are working a case, you need to work it one hundred percent. If you're distancing yourself from the team, the team can't function." Then, in an attempted compliment sandwich technique, he added, "We need you, Reid."

Reid nodded slightly and shifted in his seat. "It won't happen again. If I need to… talk to JJ, I'll do it when we're off the clock." He opened his mouth slightly, inhaling with the intent to speak, but then he fell silent.

This is like pulling teeth.

Hotch tossed the situation around in his head for a while. He knew Reid was suffering from Emily's sudden return, and he knew it was warranted. Hotch himself would admit the entire thing was a mess, and he had already conceded to the fact that he had made some bad calls. He just didn't want to say it.

Because, had he taken the time to think it through, he would have realized what a massive impact the lie would have on Reid. Hotch would have realized the importance of finding ways around the roadblocks, finding ways to tell Reid answers were just around the corner. But he hadn't taken that time. He allowed himself to get caught up in the whirlwind, the cover-ups, the workload, the search for a replacement he wasn't even sure he would need—he blamed himself, and he knew he had failed Reid, but that didn't fix anything.

And, in the end, Hotch decided to continue the façade of doing no wrong. If he did, Reid would stay angry for a while, but he would eventually forgive and leave it in the past. If Hotch admitted to the short-coming, he feared Reid wouldn't be able to handle the thought that Hotch forgot or didn't think of him.

In the end, Hotch preferred Reid feeling betrayed to Reid feeling insignificant.

"Reid, this can't continue."

"I said I wouldn't do it again." Reid picked at his fingernails.

Hotch shook his head slightly. "I'm not talking about that. I believe you when you say it won't happen again." He considered his words for a moment. "I'm talking about the tension between you and JJ and Emily and myself."

Reid shook his head, scratching his hands a little faster. "It's not—it wasn't about that."

"Reid, I let you take two weeks of vacation time, but you've been worse since you got back, not better. If you're trying to stuff it or ignore it, it's not working. We need to try something else." Hotch leaned forward slightly, trying to get a good look at the downcast face; Reid's facial features were always so telling.

"I know I've been irritable, and I'm sorry." Reid continued to shake his head as he spoke, his respiration picking up slightly. "I'll fix it."

"I spoke with Morgan, and he says you've been keeping busy. Cleaning everything in your apartment, cooking new recipes every meal you're home for, rereading every book you own and working your way through the entire library…"

"It's not like that."

"Rossi said he saw you on his way to the bar three nights ago. You were helping with a fundraiser, doing magic tricks for the kids." Hotch frowned slightly, not liking the way Reid was shaking his head on a constant loop. "Distracting yourself is not a solution, Reid. You will burn yourself out, and it will all come crashing down at once. If you need to talk to JJ or—"

"It's not about Emily." Reid spoke a little louder and raised his hands so they hovered near either side of his head, as if he were about to clutch his own skull in frustration.

Naturally, Hotch didn't believe him. "You left almost immediately after Emily came back, you were gone for two weeks, and you've been angry and distant since you got back. You fight with JJ and disobey my orders every chance you get. You've barely spoken to Emily—or anyone, for that matter—since before your time off. I don't have to be a profiler to see—"

"It's not about Emily!" Reid shouted—actually shouted—and there was a raw sincerity in his voice Hotch couldn't overlook. "It's not… it's not about…"

Hotch stayed silent, watching carefully. He couldn't think of anything else that would make Reid spiral so quickly. Nothing out of the ordinary had been reported, and Reid hadn't experienced any traumas on the recent cases they worked.

"Reid, what is this about?" Hotch paused, but there was no answer, just more desperate headshakes. "If this isn't about Emily, what is it about?" Pause. "Reid?" Pause. "Reid, answer me."

Reid's head finally stopped shaking, both hands coming up to cover his face even though it was already concealed by his posture. His shoulders began to shudder, very slightly at first but then harder, large gasps for air breaking up the spasms.

It took a few seconds to process, but Hotch quickly figured out he had made some terrible error. Spencer Reid was sitting in front of him, half-curled into a ball, sobbing.

"Reid, what's wrong?" Hotch got to his feet and walked around the desk, putting a hand on his subordinate's back and rubbing slightly. "Reid, talk to me."

Reid didn't respond verbally, but he buried one hand in his jacket and felt around for a moment before producing a small pamphlet. He held it up, still weeping with his face to the floor.

Hotch took it cautiously, as he might take a loaded gun from a semi-compliant unsub, and continued to rub Reid's back as he read.

Diana Eileen Reid

Born: April 25th, 1956

Died: June 13th, 2011

Aged 55

It hit Hotch like a truck. Reid didn't take two weeks' vacation, he took two weeks' leave to be with his mother as well as plan and hold her funeral. He hadn't given his reason, no doubt because he was still angry about Emily, and the sudden death couldn't have come at a worse time.

"Reid…" Hotch wrapped his other arm around Reid and pulled him close, pressing the young man's head into his stomach. "Why didn't you say something?"

Reid couldn't reply. He was sobbing too violently to get air into his lungs, let alone speak.

It really wasn't about Emily. Not entirely, anyway. He lashed out at us because he doesn't have anyone else. Reid felt betrayed by his family at the BAU, and less than a month later, he lost the only living family he had. I was right about him keeping busy; I was just wrong about the reason.

"Shh, shh…" Hotch rubbed his back and shoulders, at a loss. "I know things aren't the best right now, but we would have gone with you." He got the feeling Reid hadn't wanted that, though. "You could have taken more than two weeks." That wouldn't have helped, either. Reid would have simply kept himself busier longer. "Reid…" Hotch wet his lips and almost continued, but then he stopped.

"Daddy, I want Mommy to come back. Can't you make her come back now?"

"You're alright, Reid." Hotch ran a hand through the messy hair, trying to replay past conversations with Jack and adapt them to an adult audience. "I know it hurts. I know you miss her."

Reid let out a harsh cry and grabbed onto Hotch's shirt, fingers curling through the fabric.

"I… I-I'm trying not to c-cry because… because I don't want M-Mommy to be sad, t-too…"

"It's okay to be sad, Reid. Don't let anyone tell you she wouldn't want you to cry. She was your mother, and every mother knows how important it is to let their children grieve in their own way and time." Their work may have shown them the opposite in many, many mothers across the country, but Hotch was hardly going to mention that. "She would understand."

"Mommy always said she couldn't wait to see me grow up… what if she doesn't like it, Daddy? What if she doesn't like how I grow up? How will I know?"

"You haven't let her down, Reid." Hotch ran his hand through Reid's hair again, briefly debating whether to speak in the present tense or not. "Do you hear me? She is not disappointed in you. She is your mother."

Reid convulsed, another cry racking his body, scraping up the sides of his throat.

"She could never be disappointed in you. She is physically incapable of being disappointed in you." Hotch was vaguely aware of a wet spot forming on his shirt, but he didn't much care. "She can be disappointed because you're sad, and she can be disappointed because she can't be with you right now, but she cannot be disappointed in you."

Reid shook his head, his other hand awkwardly coming out from in between them and trying to grab Hotch around the waist. It reminded Hotch of the night they found Reid and Tobias Hankel in the cemetery. Reid had clutched him so tightly, and while that hug was brief, Hotch imagined it would have felt more like the current one had it lasted longer.

"I—I thought I could just—leave everything in Nevada." Reid didn't move his head, gasping for air between words and phrases. "I wanted to—to come back and be mad—I wanted to be mad at you and JJ and Emily, and—and it worked at first, but then it—it just—"

It just hurt too much. Hotch finished the sentence internally, keeping quiet in the hopes he would coax more from Reid.

"She's gone, Hotch. She's…" Reid sobbed again, shaking his head.

Hotch rubbed his back a few times and then pulled back slightly. "I'll get the others. Maybe we can do something to—"

"No, no, I don't—everyone did that in Nevada. Everyone—had something to say, some advice to give, some—it was suffocating, I—I can't. I just can't, Hotch." Reid shook his head, reaching up and rubbing his eyes with one sleeve.

"I'll tell them not to say anything. Just… let them be there for you." Hotch wet his lips and shook his head. "We made a mistake, Reid. We made a bad decision and you paid for it, but we are still your family." Hotch gave him a faint smile. "Let them be your family again, Reid. They want to be."

Reid remained hesitant for a few more moments, but then the tears were back and he was too tired to argue, so he nodded and curled in on himself again.

Hotch looked at him for one more moment, and then he gave the young man a squeeze on the shoulder before rushing out. He hurried to the conference room and closed the door once inside, holding up a hand to demand silence.

"I need you all to forget what you thought was going on, and I need you to do it quickly. This is very important, so we're doing it fast, and we're doing it now. No questions, just action." Hotch saw no reason to beat around the bush, the few seconds he had left Reid alone already tying a knot in his stomach. "Reid took two weeks leave because his mother was dying. She is gone now, and he's not handling it well."

JJ was walking before he finished his sentence, but he sidestepped to get between her and the door.

"Hotch, move."

"JJ—"

"He can't be alone right now." Her eyes were wet, desperation slipping into her voice.

"I know, but he doesn't want to be talked to. I want you all to go in, give him a hug, maybe tell him one small thing that can't be mistaken for a pleasantry, and then leave." He looked at the rest of the team before turning back toward JJ. "It's what he wants, and we owe him that much."

JJ held his gaze for a moment and then nodded, reaching up to wipe her eyes. Everyone else on the team offered some gesture or single-syllable reply to indicate they understood, and then it was a race to see who could get to Reid first.

They filed into Hotch's office, Morgan taking the lead and wasting no time in wrapping both arms around Reid. He held on tight, and he held on longer than the others expected, ending the embrace with a quiet, "We love you, pretty boy."

Morgan stepped out of the way, letting Garcia come closer. She leaned down and grabbed Reid in a hug, already crying.

"I know we're not supposed to say anything, but I just wanted to say that I love you, and I'm sorry for saying something, but I just—I love you lots, okay?" She squeezed him and straightened up, only to grab him in one more hug before hurrying out of the way.

Rossi leaned down and gave Reid a brief hug, but then he crouched in front of the chair. He put a hand on the arm to steady himself, and tilted his head to peer up at Reid's face. "Hey, kid. You should come over to my place tonight. I have a bottle of wine more expensive than your rent just waiting to have some sorrows drowned in it."

There was a moment where Hotch was afraid humor would set Reid off again, but to his pleasant surprise, Reid actually let out a chuckle. It was a feeble, half-hearted chuckle, choked out with tears, but it was a chuckle.

Rossi smiled and clapped his shoulder a few times before rising to his feet and exiting the room immediately. He understood—perhaps more than anyone else on the team—the need to grieve in silence and solitude.

Morgan and Garcia followed his lead, and after giving Reid's shoulder a tentative, hopefully-this-won't-make-you-angry squeeze, Emily did the same.

JJ was the only one left, and she was the only one Hotch thought might require intervention. She had all the best intentions, he knew, but she communicated best through words—it was her job to do so, and she chose that field for a reason. Unfortunately, words were not what Reid wanted, and Hotch's priority was protecting Reid.

JJ slowly approached the chair, almost numbly wrapping her arms around Reid and pulling his head to her chest. She rocked back and forth slightly, something she had no doubt picked up since Henry's birth, and then her mouth opened.

Hotch tensed, ready to step in but willing to give verbal interaction a chance.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked softly, kissing the top of his head.

Reid sniffed softly, his raspy voice sounding out a moment later. "This isn't about that."

"I know." JJ screwed her eyes shut and rested her head on his. "I want to know what I have to do to make things better. I know I can't fix it, but if it weren't for everything… everything that happened, this wouldn't be so overwhelming, and…" her own voice thickened with tears, "…I could have been there for you. I could have been there, and if you need me to go away and never come back, I'll do it. I will, just—just tell me how to make you hurt less. I will do anything, Spence, just tell me what I'm supposed to do. Tell me how I can make it better."

Reid let out a few quiet sobs and then reached up, grabbing onto her sleeve. "I don't know," he croaked, shaking his head pitifully. "I don't know."

"Okay," she said softly, keeping him close and rubbing his back. "We can work with that. You don't know, and that's normal. That's—that's fine, Spence. Can you tell me what not to do?"

Reid inhaled shakily and struggled with a few more cries before managing a reply. "Don't leave."

JJ shook her head, running her fingers through his hair again. "No. Never. I'm right here."

Reid let out another soft cry but didn't say anything else. He held onto JJ, one arm wrapped around her waist and one lifted so he could hold her sleeve. He kept his face buried and wept quietly, gasps for air intermingling with the noise as he tried to find the words to speak.

Hotch stepped away from the wall, walking around the back of the chair and putting his hands on Reid's shoulders. He massaged the joints occasionally, unsure of what else he could do to offer comfort.

"F-for as long as I can remember, I've been the youngest in everything. I—" Reid sniffed. "I'm always treated like a kid. I hate it. B-but in all those years… in college and high school… at the academy and here at the BAU…" He squeezed JJ's sleeve. "I don't think I've ever felt more infantilized than the moment they started putting the dirt in, and I realized…" He uttered another gut-wrenching sob. "I still need my mom."

Hotch closed his eyes, taking a break but not knowing what to say. He kept rubbing Reid's shoulders, looking at JJ helplessly. JJ shook her head and mouthed the words, 'don't speak.'

"I'm… I'm gonna have kids someday, and she's never gonna meet them." Reid let JJ go and buried his hands in his hair, resting his arms on his knees. "She'll never see me get married, she'll never read to my kids, she'll never—never write me another letter." He lifted his head then, looking at JJ with tears rolling down his cheeks. "I will never get another letter from her, and I couldn't even read the last one she sent because—because it was so incoherent… it was just scribbles. I'll never know what she was trying to tell me. I'll never know if she even understood my goodbye."

JJ only wrapped her arms around him again, kissing the top of his head and trying to console him in the only way she could—in the only way he could receive as he was.

Hotch closed his eyes again, thinking of what the coming weeks and months would bring. Reid couldn't go home alone, so someone would have to stay with him or house him. There was no telling how it would affect his ability to do his job, and the matter of Emily's death was hardly resolved. That put another choice on Hotch's shoulders—get group therapy so they could better understand and communicate during a crisis, or try to keep it in house and risk Reid closing up again for lack of trust.

And for a moment, there was anger. Because as problematic as Reid's behavior was, things always seemed to hit him in waves.

He didn't have to deal with killing someone for the first time. He had to fail the test, get beaten and demeaned by his superior, and then kill someone for the first time. He couldn't deal with being abducted. He had to be abducted, tortured physically and psychologically, and develop a dangerous addiction. He wasn't allowed to process seeing his father for the first time since the man walked out. He had to work a child abduction case, have vivid nightmares, find his father and fight with him more than anything else, and then find out about the murder of Riley Jenkins and how his parents were involved.

For some reason, Reid couldn't just be hit with feelings of betrayal. No, Reid had to lose a close friend and mourn them, find out the truth and feel betrayed by those he trusted most, and then lose his mother.

Hotch squeezed Reid's shoulders again, using all his restraint not to let out a sigh.

Reid, I'm so sorry. I wish I could stop things from happening the way they do. But for some reason, for you more than most, when it rains, it pours; and for some reason, we never have an umbrella when you need it the most. And I'm sorry, Reid. I really, truly am.