After the conversation with Estelle, where she comes to know everything there is to know about me, I am too tired to call Reid back. I debate calling him Monday morning, but he isn't there. He's got an appointment, or something I bet. No one else mentions his absence and I don't want to ask. Sharks, blood, water, and I'm already very fragile. I don't dislike water, but I don't know how to surf. I can skate fine, not as good as Stéphane obviously, but if I make the wrong move the ice will crack beneath me and I will shoot down into the icy depths of the water. If I'm lucky a shark will get me. If I'm not, well I might try to pound on the ice from below until I drown.

During lunch, I do give him a call. He doesn't answer, and I leave him a voicemail.

Yes, Tuesday is fine. Let me know if you are back in town by then.

It's nothing special. Despite the heat, I get work done. The shift starts and ends soon enough, and then I am back in the apartment Estelle and I share. The space between us is awkward. She makes a tourtière for dinner, and I know that if she's cooking a special comfort food for me, she's worried about me. We mostly talk in French. While I could never forget it, the language is hard to walk in a bit. Like ice skates.

Then, I walk into the bullpen Tuesday morning. Prentiss is with Reid, gone. She mentioned flying out last night so they could conduct interviews first thing this morning. I know he isn't going to walk in until after lunch. I suppose this should make me feel better.

When I sit down and take a sip of my coffee, Morgan stops typing beside me. No one else is in the bullpen. Slowly, I look over at him.

"Morning," I offer, an eyebrow raised.

"Morning," Morgan echoes. "You doing okay?"

"I would be if you let me do work," I point out, rolling the chair back.

"The last month you've been doing nothing but work," Morgan points out. "You haven't come out for lunch with any of us or gone shooting. Nothing."

"You have been out on cases at least once a week for the past month," I grimace, turning back to my computer to begin typing.

"You're pissed at Reid," he says. "But you're also being nice to him. Why?"

"I'm not pissed at him," I type again, not letting my fingers freeze over the keys even though my knuckles feel stiffer now.

"You're making him coffees. He's not drinking them. And you are hiding that you are making him coffees too. Why?" he asks.

I don't even acknowledge Morgan. Instead, I pull out my phone to complete the multifactor authentication process. I know he is hovering. The wheels of his chair scrape across the ground, and a shadow comes over my screen. I ignore him.

"Do you think he's using again?"

I stop moving.

My computer beeps. The multifactor authentication times out. I don't move anymore.

"So he is and you know it."

"I don't know anything," I say.

I guess, I don't. I have been looking at him. We are quiet, withdrawn, but I didn't think he was in the throws of addiction again. I try to picture the way he looked on Friday. Was his skin more yellow, or bluer, or anything but his usually colour? Did he appear hollower, not just in the flesh of his cheeks but his eyes? Has he been vacant?

"You know something."

I glare at Morgan. I toss my phone down on the table and cross my arms. He sits near me, staring too.

"Just typical Reid and I fighting," I roll my eyes. "This time I pissed him off. It's about my roommate, Estelle, and frankly it's none of your business."

He closes his mouth. I know he's met Estelle. She came to bring Garcia food at the hospital.

"Morgan, Bouchard," JJ's voice calls out.

She enters the room and flicks on the television. Morgan and I turn our heads and watch a news anchor on screen. There's a stand-off at some sect in Colorado.

"That's not the ranch where Prentiss and Reid are?" Morgan asks.

JJ says something and Morgan yells Hotch's name. I feel my blood go cold. An ice bath. It's May. It's May again, and there is no use in screaming because I am underwater.

Hotch says something about hostage rescue. Phone calls start erupting, and they all start moving. I open the side drawer of my desk. I replaced my getaway bag, with all it's patches, for a different one. It's already good to go, with clothes inside that probably should be washed since I haven't touched them in about a little under a year. Still, I throw it on to my desk.

"Bouchard," JJ says, looking over at me.

Her face looks sad. Maybe they don't need my expertise, but I'm going. I'm not letting this happen again. No more Agent Strauss telling me someone has been shot or hurt. I will not do it. Especially not if it's Spencer.

He doesn't feel close to me. Somehow, in Colorado, he suddenly feels so far away. Dr. Spencer Reid should be here with me, beside me. I can't hear it from Strauss. Somehow, in this moment, I'm not a puddle. I'm not running into the street to curl up beside a dumpster, I'm not passing out on the sofa for hours, or crying or anything. It's a matter of space and movement. I am here, and he is there, and so that is where I have to be. With him.

"Let her come," Morgan points out. "Local cops often feel emasculated when we come to their scenes and take over. She's a pretty agent with nothing better to do, and her presence helps diffuse conflict."

I have a feeling he is talking out of his ass, and by JJ's quick sigh, I think she doesn't believe him, but no one challenges him. Then, they take off to get their stuff. Our plane is taking off in fifteen minutes, which is as quickly as we can all be ready and over there. I hurry over to Hotch with my bag, and he just looks at me firmly and nods. Then, all four of us are in the plane. It's about a four-hour flight, and Colorado is two hours behind us.

We spend most of the flight debriefing cases. They have me on a portable laptop pulling up statistics and searching ViCAP. Garcia is video calling in as well, but she is looking up every detail she can about the ranch and its occupants. Satellite imaging, background checks, and anything else she can. There is very little about the leader Cyrus, but she goes through all the people who are believed to be residents at the ranch.

Hotch mostly lets Rossi take the lead. My head isn't cool enough to think about how I am on a hostage negotiation mission with the David Rossi. I don't think he has ever done hostage negotiation with Reid. I'm sure Spencer would be interested. I try to take notes, to tell him about what's happening later. He'll want to know.

When we land in Colorado, he doesn't feel any closer to me than he did hours ago. He should. Right? But our proximity isn't defined by area or miles squared. We pile into a few cars and drive out to the ranch.

They debrief the local police. I don't pay that much attention, mostly because it feels like introduction to cults 101. Rossi already knows the sheriff from Ruby Ridge and Waco, but most of the men obviously don't know. I do my job, mostly by sitting at the computer and pulling research in from ViCAP. I also pull out academic articles as I can too. Halfway through the debrief they get a call.

One of the child services workers is dead. That's the guise Reid and Prentiss went in with.

I stop typing. It is Colorado and it is the summer, but the flaps of the tent only seem to let in the cold breeze.

"Nancy Lunde."

The voice comes from the other side of the walkie, and at least then I feel like I can breathe, if only a bit.

The day doesn't go on for much longer after that. Local police start to prepare little surveillance devices to send into the Sect. I make coffee, chat with them, but all the while I feel a little pin prick in the back of my mind, listening in to see if our walkie gets a call.

It's ridiculous, but it doesn't even feel like Reid is here. Materially, logically, physically, I know he is in the ranch. He is there with Prentiss, hopefully unharmed. I haven't seen him though. It doesn't feel like we are less than a mile apart. Truly, it would make more sense if he was in Romania or Brazil. Somewhere that I've never stepped, that could never feel like home to me. A foreign language, cuisine I don't know. A place I might run when things get bad.

Eventually, we call it a night. They have sent up tents for us to sleep in, and I'm excused after dinner. However, I can't make myself leave. I drink coffee and hang out in the room, chatting with the officers and smiling. Eventually, when they do a shift change, with new officers coming in to start with different, fresher eyes, I blink.

Estelle has sent me a text. I didn't come home for dinner. She's threatened to call Stéphane.

I walk out of the tent and sit myself inside one of our black cars. It's hot in there, so I roll down the window. In a quiet voice, I tell her about Reid and Prentiss. I'm fine, I promise her. It's okay and I would tell her if it wasn't.

"Do you need to rebook your flight?"

I close my eyes slowly. I forgot it was June 17th. We're staying at least another day, hopefully none more. Even still, I shake my head.

"It's fine," I tell her.

If I'm not back by June 20th, there is no sense in rebooking it. I can't imagine leaving now, even for fun. I would just cancel the flight altogether.

After I hang up I sit in the car. My body is slow, and I am so tired. Still, I force myself to stay awake.

Morgan comes out of the tent. He shines a flashlight around and when it hits the car I wince, turning my head away.

"Bouchard?" he asks.

His feet crunch in the dirt. Once he tilts the flashlight away I can properly see his face. He gestures toward me.

"Come on, let's go to bed," he says. "They will wake us if something happens."

"I was calling my roommate," I said. The call ended an hour ago.

Morgan sighs. He bends over, dropping the flashlight onto the ground. Through the open window, he reaches inside the car and pats my shoulder.

"Reid's smart enough not to hold a grudge after this," Morgan points out. "Kid's fine. You can worry about apologizing him later."

It wasn't about that. I don't correct him. No sense in telling a shark it's off your trail. So, I do end up following him into the tenants where we are all supposed to be sleeping. JJ is somewhere else, with a proper bed since she's pregnant. I lie on the ground and I don't sleep. I'm so tired, but I couldn't imagine it.

~~~~~

Another one no Reid. He's in my heart of hearts though. We are so so close to the end though. Any predictions?