Fade.

Subtlety is Key.

We got on the jet not prepared for what was to come. We had thought that it was just a single serial killer but later discovered that it was a team. That's not even the worst part. It was a team that had been butchering people (and I don't mean that figuratively) for over thirty years. They just changed their MO after every six kills. This time they screwed up. Big time.

Right now we're getting ready to head out and get them before they can kill again. We all get to the card and do a head count. Rossi counts everybody so he can tell who to go in which car but this time it was different. Somebody was missing. Reid.

"Should I go look for him?"

"No. We don't have time. He can sit this one out."

With that I reluctantly got into the car with him and Morgan, hoping that Reid was alright and just wanting a break.

About two hours later we make it back to the Nashville field office and book the killers. I was more concerned with where the hell Reid was so I wandered off looking around the office. Nothing. Where the hell was he?

"Hey Hotch, you haven't seen Reid have you?"

"He said he left his bag in the hotel room this morning. Why?"

"I haven't seen him all day. I'm starting to get a bit worried."

"I'm sure he's fine but if you're really that worried go check on him."

I nodded and left. By the time I got to the hotel Hotch had called and told me to get everybody's stuff so we could go home. I got everything and put it in the car. Everything but Reid.

"Dr. Spencer Reid open the door please!"

I was trying not to be too loud but he wasn't answering so I pounded on his door. He answered with his hair dripping wet and a tired look on his face.

"So you are alive. Nice of you to show up at the field office today"

"Sorry. I came back to get my bag and wasn't feeling well so I stayed here."

He did look a bit pale.

"Still. We were worried about you."

"And by 'we' you mean you."

"Shut up and get your stuff ready to go. We leave in an hour."

He nodded and started gathering his things. He was always extremely organized but I guess he really wasn't feeling well because he almost left a book behind. I slid it into his bag and walked out to the car.

"I'm ready to go home."

"Me too. Can I crash at your place tonight? My apartment building is being repainted on the inside and I'd rather not die from fumes."

He nods and spaces out. He did that the entire flight home. Maybe he's just over tired. I'm sure he'll be fine in a few days.