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[Reid straightens in his seat at that, ready to rise.]

I-- Do you want me to get you anything? Coffee, water, tea... [A little pause.] Whiskey?

[Hotch glances up from his desk, the exhaustion obvious in his eyes. He tilts his head at the young genius and thinks for a moment.]

...anything is good right now. But I'm leaning more for the shot of whiskey, unfortunately.

Whiskey. [Spencer gives a nod. He had almost figured that would be the answer. Hotch looked like he needed it, and of course, that was perfectly understandable. He leaves to get the bottle and find Aaron a glass, and returns with both items rather quickly, carefully setting them down on the desk.]

I could've attempted to make you some sort of Irish coffee? But that would've taken too long and probably not turned out very well at all.

I think it's the thought that counts at this point.

[There's a slight smile of appreciation as he reaches over to grab the whiskey bottle and opens it for himself. Some of it gets poured into the glass, and he sets down said bottle. Aaron slowly swirls his drink around and looks to Spencer for a moment before nodding at the chair in front of him. It's one of those 'sit down and talk' nods.

After all, he only lost Haley about a month ago. Wounds are still fresh, and he hasn't really gotten to talk to anyone about it... especially since he only got back to the office today.]

How's everyone been doing this past month?

[He does sit down, and once seated, he pulls the chair closer to Aaron's desk. Seeing Hotch smile, even a little, makes a small smile tug at the corners of Spencer's lips as well. He's quiet for a second, then looks up as he speaks.]

We've been doing okay -- given the circumstances. Strauss has been... Strauss. Your absence hasn't affected work, exactly-- Morgan is a good leader, but we're kind of just not the same team without you.

I see. I'm coming back soon, anyway. Just- one more week.

[Aaron doesn't look too great at the next thought. He takes a long drink of the whiskey, making a small face at the burning sensation down his throat. His voice gets quiet.]

...he's in a coma. Foyet.

We're all happy to have you back, Hotch-- just... make sure you're ready.

[Reid could've continued, but instead he watches Aaron's expression change, pauses, waits. When Hotch finally speaks, Spencer's brows knit, and he's not sure what to say at first.]

...Do they know if he's going to come out of it?

There's a chance he might. A chance. [The bitterness is evident in his voice, and he downs the last of his whiskey as he gazes at Reid with a sort of listless look in his eyes.] That means he'll be alive. And if he- if he manages to somehow get out of there...

[He doesn't even want to think about it. He can't bring himself to say it.]

Hotch...

[Reid wants to be comforting, but can't think of anything that he could say that would make that much of a difference. He doubts that Hotch will stop sleeping with one eye open as long as Foyet is alive, even if the chances of him escaping are very low.]

They'll be keeping him under supervision at all times. He won't.

[He doesn't want to admit that this is Foyet they're talking about. The one who escaped from Boston, who was on the run for several months and managed to locate his family and murder his wife. He did have every faith in the police departments here, but it didn't ease the worries in his stomach. He grabs the bottle to pour himself another shot of whiskey and nods.]

I know they will. Doesn't mean I still won't be paranoid, unfortunately.

[While Reid isn't worried that Foyet will be able to escape, he knows that as long as he's alive, Aaron will see him as a threat to him and Jack.]

No-- and I understand that. It's just... next to impossible that he'd be able to escape this time, if he even gets out of the coma.

[He can only nod this time and swirl around his drink a little more before feeling his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. His hearing's been acting up quite a bit recently, especially in his right side. It bothers him a little bit- okay, a lot. He hasn't told anyone either. He looks down at his phone before placing it on his desk and downing the entire drink with one knock-back.

Something disturbed him on his phone rather drastically.]

[Taking note of Hotch's reaction to whatever message he'd received on his phone, Spencer sits up straight in his seat again, watching him with a look of almost concern on his face.]

What did your message say?

[Wordlessly, Hotch slides his phone over to Reid with the message open. His facial expression is hard to read- something between worried, angered, and just plain saddened. If Reid could read the text, it would be something along the lines of "Foyet woke up, but he appeared still in a coma. And when no one was looking, he was out the damn door in an instant. And now he's on the run." It's something painful, and yet infuriating at once, and that wall that took years for Aaron to build...

...it's crumbling. Again.]

--he escaped. I don't know how, but--

[Hotch's expression says enough; Reid barely has to look at the text to know what's going on. He opens his mouth, shuts it again, reaches quickly for the phone to read the message.

More than once, because it just refuses to sink in. They just talked about it-- and Foyet... that just wasn't allowed to happen.]

That's-- just not possible... How could this happen?

I don't know.

[In that instant, he's standing up and gathering up his papers and files and- oh god. His mind is immediately reverting to 'keep Jack safe' mode, and yet it's also shifting into 'FIND FOYET' mode as well. The conflict of interest makes him stop shuffling papers and stares down at what he has in front of him before placing a hand to his head and trying to figure out what to do first. How to do it. How he's not going to be able to-

-break the hell down. He stares at the files in his hands before sitting back down and biting his lip. He shouldn't have come back. He should've stayed home, should've made sure Foyet would be gone for good. If Reid looks close enough, he can see Aaron's eyes misting. Not only from despair- but fury.]

I don't know, Reid. I won't know until- until I see him.

Hotch--

[And Spencer is getting to his feet as well. He's there in a second to stop Hotch in the middle of what he's doing, hands on his upper arms, trying to keep him calm and collected. His eyes are flicking over Aaron's face, and he presses his lips together into a thin line.

He's upset himself, can't wrap his mind around the fact that this is actually happening, but he can't let it show because he has to keep Hotch from losing his grip on the situation, keep him from doing something irrational.]

It's going to be okay-- let's take it easy. Calm down.

[Hotch is just- his mind is in a foul place right now, and well. Let's just say it's a good thing Spencer's there to help him out with his interests. As he looks at his youngest profiler, his body sags slightly. He really doesn't like where this is going. At all.]

Calm isn't exactly the feeling I had in mind...

No, but you'll need a clear head. This is not helping. At all.

[Reid seems to be relaxing just a bit as Hotch does, and he slowly lets his hands drop to his forearms. He's glad that he is here right now, because there's no telling what the Unit chief would've done if he'd received that message while on his own.]

We can find him.

[Aaron merely nods, looking at Spencer with that steely gaze. They would find him. Or else.]

We have to. If not for my sake, then for Jack's. I'm not having him touch my son.

He's not going to come anywhere near Jack.

[Reid tries to sound as convincing as possible. He believes that they will find Foyet, he has to.]

We'll figure out his next move-- and then get to him before he can harm anyone.

[With a nod, Aaron looks back at the bottle and swallows. Somehow, he doesn't believe that quite yet.]

...we have to. We don't have a choice.

[As Aaron seems to have calmed down for the moment, Spencer withdraws his hands, but he doesn't move away. He can only imagine what Hotch must be feeling right now-- but seeing him like this makes the genius just as anxious.]

We have his profile, we know how to find him. We can, and we will, Hotch.