A knock on the edge of her desk had her finally looking up from the cold case she was attempting to focus on instead of her phone, like she'd been doing the past month, waiting for a call that never came.

"You busy?" Diaz pushed the evidence box towards her and sat on the edge of the desk. "I need to bounce an idea off you."

"Can't. Cap still has me benched," she said, going back to the file in her hand. A boy that vaguely matched a statue elsewhere in the country. Reina would never have called herself obsessive, but ever since Anghad disappeared, she'd made it her mission to trace Keya's whereabouts throughout her life and see if any of the cases of missing boys and men overlapped with the woman's stay. Especially if those cases matched the mysterious appearances of marble statues in the vicinity, as reported by local news. So far, she had found one such incident before the alleyway killing over a year ago. Maybe that was truly the start of the stoner spree.

"Interesting case?" Diaz leaned over her file, his hair brushing her forehead.

"Do you mind? Cap's tasked me with closing some of the old cases instead of..." Reina brought the file to her chest. "Instead of..." waiting for my son...

Diaz looked at the two boxes marked 'Missing Cases 2100-2110' and 'Missing Cases 2090-2100.'

"Any reason you're focusing on the last two decades? I'm sure we have colder cases than that."

"Mind your own beeswax." She grabbed the boxes and tucked them under her desk. "Is there a reason you're hovering? Shouldn't you be taking your ma to a pastry shop? It's Friday."

"She's not well today." He leveled her with a look before dropping a sealed envelope in front of her. "Someone left this at the front desk for you."

"Who?" Reina grabbed a pen and used it to twirl the envelope around.

"Relax. It's safe." Diaz took the file she placed on the table and perused it.

Reina tore into the envelope, saying in a hush, "I've been thinking—"

"Uh-oh. Don't think too hard. You might hurt yourself," Diaz piped.

"Screw you." With a flicker of her old smile, she hooked the pen into the corner and ripped the envelope open, tipping its contents out. "I was thinking Agent Francois might be right. Perhaps Keya isn't in the right frame of mind to do what she did. At least that'll be their defense—"

Inside the envelope was a single photo printed on a photo stock paper. Reina hadn't seen those since she was a kid. But it wasn't the reason she'd stopped talking.

"What?" Diaz closed the file and turned to her. "What is it?"

Reina felt a cold chill slither up her spine and numb her mind. Her heart, however, was galloping like a prized stallion at the now-defunct Melbourne Cup.

"What?" Diaz snatched the photo from her hands and froze as soon as he saw what she saw.

"It's him..." her words were barely a whisper. "It's him... isn't it?"

"And there's something on the back..." She watched him flip the photo around to show her the message written on it in neat block writing.

A single simple message.

One.

St Vincent's Hospital. ICU.

"He's alive...?" Reina felt a swirl of emotions choking her throat. After almost three months of being a mum without a child, he was there, in front of her, lying in some hospital bed, hooked up to god knew what and why, but, "...he's alive."

"Come on." Diaz pulled her out of her seat by her elbow, speaking loud enough for others to hear. "I want to run something by you... it won't take long. I'll even shout you a coffee from that stupid cart you like outside."

He nudged towards the exit with his chin, whispering, "Let's go find him."

"Yes," Reina spluttered, blinking back tears frantically. She would not cry in the station. She hadn't cried when he went missing, when she thought he'd died; when she'd lost him. She wasn't about to cry now. "Yes. A coffee sounds good. Thank you."

She followed him out of the station, noticing several heads rise from their desks to follow them out. She even caught Weir's gaze, looking rather concerned. He looked at the Cap's office before mouthing to them, "Everything okay?"

Ahead of her, Diaz held the photo out to him in response.

Reina didn't know when it had happened that Weir had turned from that nasty pimple-head she wanted to pop to a genuinely nice guy, but ever since the gallery incident, he'd been nothing but nice. "Since when does he like us?" she mumbled to Diaz's back.

"Since he realised who you were trying to save. He too had a kid once... Rumour is, they never found her. She is one of those old cases Cap wants closed."

Shit. Reina glanced at Weir, who suddenly gave her a thumbs up and mouthed, "Go. I got you covered!"

"Thank you!" She mouthed back, suddenly itching to hug him if she didn't want to see her son first. "I'm driving."

"Suit yourself." Diaz threw her the keys to the old family car she'd driven that night he had gone missing, but no more.

"Who do you think sent the photo? The envelope was unmarked," Diaz said, getting in the car.

"Whoever it is deserves a pint." Reina smiled, making a mental note to ask a certain young woman out for a drink, if only to say thank you.

Hope Agent Francois likes craft beer?

WC: 35, 009

A/N: That's the end of this story. 😆😆  Okay, fine, there's an epilogue. I didn't think I could finish an ONC this year. Thank you for reading my twisted tale!