Drowning

by Jovi_Star

Summary:

For a minute, everything changed. Reid was in the shed; the burnt smell of fish and the cold of the winter were all back.
Tobias Hankel stood in front of him, arm outstretched and raised. A revolver was in hand, clicking echoed in his head when Tobai-no, Raphael, was displeased. Willing to let God decide the young agent's fate.
Everything glitched, and Reid was back in the office, his team around him.
Everything was alright.
But it wasn't.

(Or, in the s6xe12 Corazon, Reid gets drugged instead)
7/2025 Update: Grammar corrections. Added in some parts in Chapters 1 and 3 that are VERY important to the story.
NEW CHAPTER!

Chapter 1: Hopeless Wanderer

Summary:

7/2025 Update: Grammar corrections. Added in some parts in Chapter 3 that are VERY important to the story.

  Spencer Reid was rushing down the stairs. His red shirt makes him stand in the dark halls of the Metro. In his hand is clasped a coffee cup. He desperately doesn’t want to spill his coffee. He’s already late to the office and spilling his coffee would just make things worse.  

  People crowded around the entrance, waiting for the approaching train to arrive. Reid glanced down to pull his ringing phone out of his pocket; all the while rushing to the entrance. What he didn’t see was a man rushing the other way. The two men collided, returning grunts to each other.  

  Thank goodness! Reid's coffee was alright. No spills. Whew.   

  The man that bumped into him was a tall, shady man. He had a bald head that shone with the little light in the tunnels. His dark blue eyes glared at Reid, and his mouth moved with apology. 

  “I’m so sorry, dude!” He exclaimed. “I guess it’s just one of those days, huh?” 

  “Yeah,” Reid grunted. He shied away from the man’s worrying touch on his arm. The stranger's germs on him, nope. No, thank you.  

  The agent sees the man's hand flash above his coffee but doesn’t worry too much about it. He needs to get to the office. Hotch is going to be pissed.  

  “Again, dude, sorry.” The man utters a bit too happily.  

  Reid sighs. “It’s fine. No harm done.” And just like that, Reid rushes onto the train, waiting for its passengers, off to the office he has been so desperately trying to get to. The strong smell of flowers follows him as he makes his way to the office. 

 

                                                                                                         OoOoOoOoOoO 

 

  Fresh cold air hit Reid as the elevator doors opened. The office, as usual, is busy; agents and workers rush through the halls. Rubbing a tired hand over his face, Reid stepped into the office. Sitting on the train, Reid was very paranoid. Taking long sips of his coffee, constantly glancing over his shoulder. I know, he had thought to himself, I feel like mom. Spencer had just assumed it was from the coffee, and maybe he was right. He didn’t get much sleep the night before, helping Morgan and the team with the Sanderson case.  

  The slight noise of the office hit Reid hard, his head pounding and his eyes betraying him. Holding the bridge of his nose, Reid pushed open the glass doors and rushed to the bullpen office. 

  The team where already sitting down, going over the murder. Ashley Seaver was swiping through the pictures on her tablet. She looked up at her friend as Reid entered the room, pulling his tan messenger bag over his head. His hair was chaotic, pieces standing up, some sticking out, and others doing their own thing.  

  “Hey, you ok?” She asked.  

  Derek Morgan looked up from his spot at the table, the pen flying around as he played with it in his hand.  

  “Yeah, why?” Reid rushed out of his mouth. He kept his head down as he took his own seat next to the door-kicking agent.  

  Morgan stared at Reid. “You’re never late.” The older agent knew something was wrong. The kid wouldn’t look at him. He kept moving and talking too quickly, and he just seemed......off. 

  Reid didn’t answer him. To be fair, his head was pounding, and he barely heard the man. He just wanted to get this case done and over with. The bright lights blazed into his eyesight, and exhaustion was setting in. Reid just wanted to sleep and never wake up again.  

  “Have we started the briefing yet?” Reid gripped his chair, his knuckles white. His head felt woozy and lightheaded. Everything swarmed.  

  Penelope Garcia walked around JJ, looking at Reid with a slight smile. Her orange hair bounced as her heels clicked on the floor.  

  For a minute, everything changed. Reid was in the shed; the burnt smell of fish and the cold of the winter were all back.  

  Tobias Hankel stood in front of him, arm outstretched and raised. A revolver was in hand, clicking echoed in his head when Tobai-no, Raphael, was displeased. Willing to let God decide the young agent's fate. 

  Everything glitched and Reid was back in the office, his team around him. Well, not the full team. Prentiss was missing from her spot; now sitting there was Ashly Seaver, the daughter of every being the BAU hunts: a murder.  

  Without Prentiss, Reid didn’t feel whole. A piece of his heart and himself were missing, and he wished it back dearly.  

  Reid quickly sat down as Garcia found her own spot. 

  “We’re about to.” She responded.  

  “Then I’m not late.” Reid snapped then winced.  

  “Oh. Yeah.” She got settled and lifted a remote to the TV. “Attention, intrepid BAU adventures. The land of Bermuda shorts, white leisure suits, and sansabelt slacks requests your presence.” 

  Reid pulled out his files and pictures, keeping his head down.  

  David Rossi looked up, eagerly. “Vegas?” 

  Morgan took a sip of his own coffee. “Arizona.” He was tired, hoping to win the competition. 

  “Palm Springs.” Seaver looked over at Morgan with a smile, then back to Garcia. 

  Reid lifted a hand to his temples and closed his eyes. Too much noise. Too much light. His friend's voices sounded distorted and wrong. His own limbs felt strange and weak, like imposters to his body. 

  Aaron Hotchner looked up. “Please.” 

  “I was going to say Miami, but point well made.” Garcia tried to hide her laughter with a confused and funny look. “About the dizzying number of locales with unfortunate fashion tendencies. Here we go.” She clicked the remote and pictures appeared on the screen. 

  “Shells on the eyes and mouth. You don’t see that every day.” JJ comments.  

  “Not even in Miami.” Rossi agrees. 

  Garcia nods her head. “3 victims, the last one found with a.....” 

  “A decapitated cat?” Morgan finishes. Both Garcia and Morgan have disgusted faces.  

  Reid’s head swam. His friends' faces blurred together, and images of people popped into his blurred vision. His mouth tasted gross: like rotten eggs filled with salt. It was sour and bitter. Everything had a dull pain, like it was happening so far away that Reid couldn’t do anything to help. His heart hammered in his chest, knives piecing his head.  

  “Worthless.”  

  “Loser.” 

  “Weird.” 

  “Stranger.” 

  “Gross.” 

  Voices spat at him in both his ears at once. Somewhere familiar, others weren’t. Somewhere old and some new. Some Reid never wanted to hear again.  

  Tobias appeared behind Rossi. He smiled and raised his fists above the oblivious older man. Flashbacks popped into Reid’s mind. Tobias—No, it was Raphael. Had the gun raised, straight at his head. He stared dead ahead with eyes glaring and mouth curved. He needed to get out.  

  He needed to get away.  

  Away from him. 

  Away from Tobias. 

  Griping the chair with his ever-again-white knuckles, he slowly but quickly raised himself from the chair. He sniffled a groan that escaped his mouth.  

  The team looked up at their friend. Reid was a pale, messy mess. Trying to hide his shaky hands and eyes glazed over. His mouth hung open, almost like he was about to spit.  

  Morgan gazed worriedly at the genius. “You alright, Pretty Boy?” He asked.  

  Reid was already, pain stalking slowly, at the door.  A stale taste filled the doctor's mouth. It was delicious and disgusting. Eyes dropped down, opened ever so slightly; his lips were a pale blue.  

  JJ suddenly stood up, noticing the wrong appearance of Reid. “Reid?” She asked. 

  Hotch was looking at him, his face neutral but his voice betraying him. Aaron Hotchner, for once, sounded worried. “Reid, what is it?” 
Reid waved them off. “I’v-I’ve go-got to--” 

  Stumbling out the door, Reid’s legs gave out. Felt like a punch to the gut, sending needles in his body haywire. A sharp, hot pain exploded at his head, sending his vision dotting black, like stars dancing; shimmering to distract him. The doctor dimly feels his body hit the floor, sending him shaking and sputtering. He felt like he was back in that shed again, high and sweet, forgetting the horrors that came along.  

  Yet this time, this was the horror. There was no high and sweet feeling, only darkness and pain. He gasped, straining to get air in his lungs, which refused to work. Hands touched him, turning him over and poking him. Looking up, the dim lights blinded his brown eyes. He tasted copper in his mouth, along with the delicious and disgusting stale flavor.  

  Everything spun in his line of sight. The yelling and screaming screeched in his ears, making him squeeze his eyes shut; tears slipped down. Once again, he felt his body shake and jerk violently.  

  And that was it.  

  It was all over as fast as it appeared.  

 

                                                                                                               OoOoOoOoOoO

 

  A small sound caught JJ’s attention. Glancing over, Reid was gripping his chair as he eased himself out of it. His face a mask for the pain and agony he hid behind.  

  Morgan gazed up at him. “You alright, pretty boy?” 

  Watching Reid go to the door, JJ noticed his appearance. His messy wet hair, blue-tinted lips, and glazed unfocused eyes were already dropping shut. She stood up. 

  “Reid?”  

  JJ looked at Hotch. Didn’t look like he was stopping. 

  “Reid, what is it?” Hotch’s voice sounded concerned.  

  The feel in the air felt stiff and dry, unfamiliar and unwelcome. JJ would feel herself start to panic, her breath coming in and out too rapidly for her heart to keep up.  

  She stood frozen as she watched Reid tumble out of the room, his legs buckling underneath him, hitting his head hard on the floor.  

  JJ screamed and rushed out onto the floor to her friend. His body jerked, muscles spasming.  His mouth hung out in a silent scream. Foam flooded around his lips, with tints of scarlet. He seemed to be gasping for air. Reid’s body continued to jerk; the same muscle heaved to do the same thing over and over.  

  The blonde agent turned him over, onto his side. His innocent brown eyes stared dead ahead, glazed. JJ could only stare at them for a moment when they rolled back, showing white. Her team was next to her, some touching Reid, some standing above, knowing they can’t do anything, and a voice talking.  

  Hotch. It must be Hotch. Hotch had called for medical. He was always prepared.  

  So why wasn’t JJ? 

  She could feel the tears spill out. Sitting back, she timed the whole thing, letting more and more tears spill. Finally, after what felt like so long, Reid slowed and stopped. Muscles relaxed, his face returning to a peaceful look. The choking sound he made died down to a gurgling, to silence.  

  And he was still. 

  Deathly still.  

  No! 

Notes:

I had this really small, "What if....Reid got drugged?" and the next thing I know Reid's gettin drugged when he should be having 'dead spirts haunt him'.
*shrugs*
Can't help myself. I always find good ways to hurt Reid
I'm just gonna
*inches closer to my bed covers*
hide
byyyye
Jovi

Chapter 2: Wish You Pain

  Reid felt the needle pierce his skin. 

  Just that simple touch reminded him all too much of that god-awful shed. And the relief he felt swam his way into his painful body. 

  He could feel himself shaking, his limbs jerking and tense. The horrible chair and bindings sat limp in the middle of a dark hospital room. Red lights blared and people screamed. White coats and blue masks littered the ground as a laugh echoed around the dark, shadowy red room.  

  Reid gazed up. 

  Phillip Dowd was gripping the chair with white-knuckles, smiling. His shaved head glinted against the red lights, and his clean teeth pulled strings of rage on Reid’s heart.  

  Dowd lifted a pale hand off the chair and beckoned for Reid. He stood there for a moment, muscles still after the jerking fit.  

  But you ’re dead.  

  Reid blinked, not sure if what he was seeing was a dream. 

  I killed you.  

  Dowd seemed to get annoyed. He growled and glared, gesturing for Reid once again, more firmly and violently.  

  I shot you with Hotch’s gun.   

  You're dead .  

  I killed you.  

  Reid still didn’t move. His fear and rage had dug too deep for the doctor to command his body. He could feel it, racing up and down his heart and into his mind, corrupting his thoughts. His legs felt stiff, and his arms felt foreign. His stomach screamed in protest, and a sudden pain erupted in his chest and stomach.  

  Doubling over, Reid clutched his torso, the pain shooting up to his head, where ice picks were chipping away, and swords buried deep in sand. He felt his legs buckle underneath the sudden heavy weight pressed on his shoulders.  

  Gasping for air, with his lungs rattling, he felt tears slip down his pale cheeks. The drip, drip on the shadowy floor echoed, bouncing off the mental walls in his head.  He felt the oxygen had vanished from his body, like he’d been punched, and the aftershocks were suddenly coming.  

  A hit on the head sent Reid stumbling down onto his aching stomach. He could feel his hands shaking again, the jerky movements sending spikes of pain everywhere.  

  Something was pressed to the back of his head. A gasp was let out of Reid’s mouth, another catching in his throat.  It was cool and smooth, a comforting touch, really. But the agent knew otherwise. He felt it many times; he’d lost count of how many different ones he felt.  

  “ Confess.”   

  A simple commanding voice barked. Reid flinched, the sound smoldering his thoughts. He would never forget the way the voice spat on him, the way it practically willed him to do so.  

  I killed you too.   

  Another voice piped in: “ Confess, sinner.”  

  The raspy voice slithered into his mind, taking hold like the other. Squeezing his eyes shut, Reid wished it would all go away. He didn’t want to be here again. He hated dreaming about it; even just talking about it would send him down the memory lane he willed to never see again.  

  “It's alright. This will help. It’ll make the pain go away.” A friendly voice smoothed. Reid knew what he was talking about. But the relief he got was everything, even though he fought as the needle slid into his skin. But one thought was clear in his mind as Reid gasped for air that wasn’t there. 

  I killed all of you.   

 

 

 

  JJ sat numbly on the uncomfortable hospital chairs, her legs shaking and her mind reeling. What had happened? One second Reid was sitting awkwardly in his chair, and the next he was on the ground, shaking so hard that his limbs had no control.  

  The agent felt like she had blood on her hands. The blood of her friend. But looking down, her hands were clean and smooth as they always were. The only thing on her hands was her sweat; sweat that made JJ rub them on her pants every minute.  

  She could feel herself shaking slightly; the feeling you get when you're so hungry and feel like passing out. When JJ welcomed the darkness of closing her eyes, all she would see was Reid seizing, his body jerking, sending her into memory. A memory, they would all want to forget, that broke her.  

  Reid inside that shed. Reid bloody and bruised. Reid pleading and begging. Reid gasping for air as he was thrown backwards. Reid’s body lurched and twitched. Reid was deathly pale – and dead.   

  JJ had watched her best friend die, and she couldn’t have done anything but watch.  

  And watching had killed her. And watching had killed him.  

  Sighing, JJ pulled her hands up over her eyes, the hospital lights at their annoying tip of brightness.  

  After Reid went still, everything was a blur. Someone grabbing her shoulder, her resisting. People standing around and people rushing to Spence’s aid. JJ thinks she rode in the ambulance with him, but wasn’t sure. She wasn’t even sure how she got here.  

  With her eyes closed, JJ stared into Reid’s glossy white eyes. They gazed at her, unblinking and unalive. The simple look of her friend's eyes made her shudder.  

  “Agent?” 

  A gasp caught in her throat. Glancing up, a doctor in blue scrubs walked up to JJ. Winkles lined at the end of his eyes, making his blue eyes sparkle. He held a clipboard under his arm, the papers of different colors.  

  “Yes?” JJ asked eagerly. “Is he okay? What happened? Why-why did he...?” 

  “Hey.” The doctor looked at her, his eyes gentle. “It’s okay. Dr. Reid is going to be fine.” 

  JJ nodded, tears already lining her eyes. “What happened?” She tried again. 

  “We looked at his tox screens, and it seems he had Lysergic Acid Diethylamide in his system. A large amount of it, too.” 

  “LSD?” JJ questioned.  

  “Hmm. But this isn’t your normal LSD. It seemed it was altered to take effect within an hour or two.” 

  JJ stared. Then this wasn’t accidental; someone had purposely drugged Reid.  

  The agent was ready to ask another question when the doctor counted. “Seems with the altered product, there were some traces of........” His voice went distant in JJ’s ears, but she knew what he said next. She always knew. It was a fear, a fear that the word would be spoken again, and JJ would not like the outcome.  

  That’s when JJ’s heart really stopped.  

  How dare they – how dare they – drug Reid with those horrible drugs. How could they make him go back to the trauma he experienced during those two days? 

  Her heart lit up like a firecracker, its blaze burning everything it touched. The smoke suffocated anyone who stood in her way. JJ could feel the heat flare in her chest, spreading down her arms, making them numb. When she spoke, her voice was a tiny whisper. Didn’t even sound like hers. 

  “ Dilaudid ?”   

 

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

Oof. I realized, while writing this that I really love torturing Reid with the whole Revelations stuff. HehehHEHEheheheHEehe. It's sort of fun. Oh well.
Sorry this is super short, I'm dealing with some things at home and having a huge writing block. But I hope you enjoy this chapter, I (hopefully) will have another chapter pretty soon.
Sorry about that cliff hanger - although it's not much, its something.
Comments and kudos are appreciated!
Love, you're favorite Bon Jovi fan, Jovi

Chapter 3: Dancing With Your Ghost.

Summary:

The BAU gets pissed.
Another learns about the horror Reid went through, and understands the worry that is tense between the BAU.

  Footfalls echoed the hospital's halls.  

 Aaron Hotchner had a determined face.  

 Of course, he wasn’t going to let his mask of deception fall. He was going to keep it hard and cold, not willing to show how shook up he really was.  

  Hotch wasn’t going to show how much it strangely reminded him of his wife. Of – of him.  The images of that day were vivid and clear as day. Sometimes  Hotch wanted to forget that day. To forget the way his wife begged him to help. To answer him and keep their son safe. The way his ear rang when the gunshot echoed into the phone.  When he kicked down the door to their home, to find her, motionless.  

   Dead.  

  But he will never forget the way he tackled Foyet to the ground. The way he hit and hit. His hands meeting bloody flesh and bone. His sobs of anger and rage were distant as his hands went down. Over and over.  

   He  

   Wanted  

   Him  

   Dead  

  Just like now. Hotch wanted whoever had hurt his team dead. Mess with one of us, you mess with all of us. 

  Rounding the hall, Hotch can see JJ sitting, her long blond hair draped over one shoulder with her hands pressed to her eyes as their propped on her thighs. He can tell she’d been crying.  

  Hotch had wanted many people dead. In his long criminal catching career, he had really wanted a few people dead. His father, George Foyet, the secret psychopath Frank, Tobais Hankel, and many other names that had hurt his team. His family.  

  Garcia gasps at seeing her friend. She takes in everything Hotch saw; her brow scrunches in sadness. JJ looks up, her eyes red and cheeks moist from the tears, as Garcia's heels click over to her.  

  The tech analyst engulfs the agent in her arms, hugging tightly. JJ clings to her, new tears streaming down her face. JJ’s hands are white knuckled against Garcia's blue and pink clothes. The tears that stream down her face, pool and wet the clothes, but if either women care, they don’t show it.  

  They stay like that for a while, Hotch watching from a distance, Garcia soothing JJ and trying not to let the tears fall down her face, while JJ lets the sobs rack her body.   

  Again, the scene reminded Hotch all too much of those almost three resistless nights. When the guilt had finally swallowed JJ and Garcia felt so hopeless. Just like the rest of them, watching Reid sit and suffer. 

  Watching Reid, it had brought back dormant memories. Of Reid taking every hit. Every bruise. Reid begging and pleading. Of Reid...... dying.  

   Finally, the tears ran dry. JJ pushed away from her friend, wiping her cheeks, one hand clasped in Garcia’s. She kept her eyes downcast, and Hotch knew something was wrong.  

  “How is he?” Garcia asked softly, trying to get her friend to look up at her.  

  “I-I think he-he's okay. I haven’t seen him.” 

  “How about we go see him?” Garica started heading down another hall.  

  JJ nodded but stayed back. “You go on ahead. I need to talk to Hotch. You know what room?” 

  Garica gave a small, worried smile and nodded, disappearing. 

  “What is it?” Hotch turned, his eyes hard. 

  “Hotch. He was drugged. He was drugged with Dilaudid.” JJ sighed and meant his brown eyes. “Dilaudid.” She repeated. Her comforting blue eyes were filled with fear.  

  And pain. 

  So, much pain. 

   Hotch felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. The air left his lungs like a vacuum, swirling and fighting. He could feel his heart hammering away at his chest, wanting out. His hands started to shake slightly, with a warm tingle mixed. Hotch could tell this wasn’t the reaction JJ was expending, but her surprise vanished just as fast as it appeared.  

  “But how would they know?” the Unit Chief breathed. He seemed to be asking himself rather than JJ. How would anyone know about the youngest agent's struggle with addiction when the only souls who knew would never betray him?  

  “How?” 

 

                                                          OoOoOoOo

 

  He peeked open his eyes. 

  Nothing. Nothing but absolute darkness.  

  It was terrifying.  

  But he wasn’t scared.  

  Weirdly, he wasn’t. 

  He sat up. 

  He was clean, no blood. No track marks, no wounds, no nothing. Just his pale skin, and clammy dark hair.  

  He was alright. No traces of...... 

  Of... 

  Of.. 

  Who? 

  Why was he here again? 

  He didn’t want to be here, in this darkness that was all too familiar. It was like an itch on his head. He’s been here, had the same experience. But he didn’t know what had happened. And doesn’t want to. A pile of dread formed at the bottom of his stomach.  

  And it wasn’t good.  

  “Hey, Spencer, you alright?” 

  The question hit him hard. The silence was rough on his ears. He didn’t like it. But he knew that voice. He knew that wise and old scratch. The kindness that was held. And 

  He twirled around, eyes searching for nothing. “He- hello?” 
The word was hard to get out. Hard to pronounce and think of.  

  “Wh-who’s there?” 

  A hand grabbed his shoulder, all the weight on that one limb. “It’s alright.” 

  And gently, the hand turned him around. 

  He sputtered.  

  “G-Gideon?” 

  “Hiya, kid.” 

  “H-how, are you here?” He asked, shock and confusion creeping up his brain.  

  The older man waved it off. “It’s fine. How are  you?”   

  He looked around, the darkness wavering, disoriented images flickering to life then vanishing without a trace. He shuddered.  

  “Err, fine. I guess.” 

  “You don’t sound fine to me, Spencer.” Gideon raised an eyebrow, his voice disoriented at his name.  

  He fell to his knees, panting. His hands shook softly, barely noticeable. He pressed them to his ears. “Wh-what?” 

  With his eyes squeezed shut, he couldn’t see Gideon move to stand above him. “He did never care for you, you know.” 

  Even with his hands covering his ears, he could still hear what he had said.  

  Everything in him went still. Quiet.  

  “What?” 

  “William.” 

  “What?” He didn’t understand. “What about Will?” 

  “Your dad.” 

  It came like a punch. The air left his lungs in a hurry, leaving him heaving on the shadowy floor.  

  “B-but.... He does! He did!” 

  “Then why did he leave you?” Gideon asked, his eyes glaring.  

  “I- I don’t know.” 

  “I never did love you; you freak,” said his dad.  

  “You, freak. Stay out of our school,” yelled the bullies.  

  “Quit trying to prove yourself!” screamed the officers.  

  “Stop being a child and grow up!” demanded his friends.  

  That one hurt the most. So, he curled up in a shaky ball, crying, and let the screams come.  

  “You freak.” 

 

                                                   OoOoOoOoO

 

  Garica was holding her boy wonder’s hand when Hotch and JJ entered the room, shutting the door behind them with ease.  

  JJ looked up, blue eyes sparkling in the bright white lights. Her blonde eyebrows pressed together, and her mouth pressed into a tight line as she looked upon her friend.  

  Reid’s face was a sickly pale, his blue lips a stark contrast to the skin. His brown locks of shaggy hair were mopped against his skin, sweat beading at his forehead. With his eyes closed, Garcia could barely believe he was still a living, breathing human being. Though his breaths were even and slow, fear gripped the tech analyst. Fear that something might go wrong again.  

  Garica could tell JJ was holding back more tears at Reid's appearance. She found a chair on the other side of the hospital bed, eased herself slowly in, and gripped a pale, cold hand. 

  Hotch remained at the door, his face neutral. Cold as stone. 

  “Anything?” JJ asked, hopefully. 

  Garica shook her head. “Not really. They're keeping him sedated. He kept....” Garcia looked down. “Screaming.” She gulped.  

  JJ gazed sadly at her friend. “The doctors said he had an altered LSD and Dilaudid in his system,” she whispered. “Someone purposely did this. I hope.”  

  Garica gasped and joined JJ in turning their heads at Hotch. He shook his head. “No,” he said flatly. “No.” 

  No. Never.  

  He’d never go back.   

  “The rest of the team?” Garica asked. 

  The tech analyst had stayed by Reid’s side ever since Reid stopped convulsing. The ever-so-long almost 5 minutes had killed all of them. All of them had the same thought: 

  Is it happening again?  

  Did he use, and we didn’t know it? 

  “What's the rest of them doing?” Garcia repeated. 

  “Morgan and Rossi are re-tracing his steps, and Seaver is going through his place, just in case,” Hotch explained, his face holding back the worry that threatened to take over. “Seeing if there’s anything there to point to who did this.” 

  “Do you know when he’ll wake up?” JJ asked hopefully. 

  “No, but when he does, I plan to be there.” Garcia never took her eyes off the pale sleeping form under the blue blankets. “He needs us.” 

  “He does, Garcia.” JJ stood up on shaky legs. “I’m going to help Seaver with Reid’s place.” Striding to the door and opening it, she stopped, looked behind her shoulder, and smiled as best as she could. “Keep him safe for me. For us.” 

  Garcia nodded, and Hotch had to restrain a slight smile of hope.  

  “I promise.” 

 

                                                     OoOoOoOoO

 

  A knock scared Seaver out of her wits, jumping and hitting her head on the low wall she was bending underneath. 

  “Ow.” She gasped, “Ugh.” She rubbed her head, mumbling curses at the stupid wall. She poked her head out of the little closet and saw JJ standing at the door, her eyes trailing the little home, the brown woodwork, and the books that filled the shelves. In the dim light, you could see the books, with big pages lying on the table and some discarded on the floor.  The smell of old pages and new mixed with the cold smell of the dusk air, within the smell of flowers.

  Seaver has never been in Reid’s home, but she found it Kinda....homey. Snuggly. The smell, the simplicity. Seaver wouldn’t mind if she had to live here.  

  “Hey,” Seaver waved awkwardly.  

  “Hi.” JJ greeted. Her arms were wrapped around her, as if she was trying to protect herself. The long blond hair was now pulled in a ponytail. Even though it’s only been half a day, JJ looked tired. Bags lay at the bottom of her blue eyes, and her mouth was pressed into a tight frown.  

  “You alright?” Seaver asked, watching as JJ moved to the windows and opened the curtains that were hiding the sunlight away. The last of the light blared into the room, making JJ strangely sigh in relief. It revealed a vase full of purple flowers, the sun shining happily on the petals. Seaver noticed the low water levels and made a note to refill the water.

  “Honestly?” JJ asked, as Seaver joined her at the window, looking out at the busy and traffic streets and the ever-growing brighter lights flickering in the distance. Seaver nodded. 

  “No. I’m not.” Then she turned from her and headed down the hallway. Her footfalls echoing off the wood, creaking as she stopped and held her weight at the end of the hall.  

  Seaver’s gaze followed her, watching her as she stared at the closed door. The newer agent could feel the fear radiating off her friend.  

  Then she pushed the door open.  

  Seaver followed her, stopping at the door, watching as JJ searched the room. On the nightstand with an alarm clock and a picture of the team, but the place where Seaver would have been was a pale woman with high cheekbones and shoulder-length black hair.  A smile covered her face just like the rest of the team: Rossi, the wrinkles near his eyes full on. Hotch the mask that he always wore was gone, replaced with what she assumed was laughter. Morgan was knuckling Reid’s head, as he protested, smiling. JJ was laughing her eyes shut tight. She watched, and Garcia was next to Morgan. She was laughing too, as she was shouldering her friend. Seaver felt her heart sink.  

  JJ was feeling under the mattress when she saw her friend's face in the picture. She stood up. “Oh, that. That was before she....” JJ gulped. “Before she died. A good time. And we rarely have good times.” She made a weak smile.  

  “Sorry.”  

  “No, it’s okay.” JJ headed to the bathroom on the right of the bedroom. Seaver could hear her opening and closing the cabinets and rummaging through Reid’s stuff.  

  “Talk to me,” demanded Seaver. “You said it yourself, you're not okay. So, talk to me.” She could hear her sigh. A pain-filled sigh.  

  “4 years ago, something happened while we were on a case.” 

  Seaver perked up.  

 

 

 

 

  She sat gasping, shock filling her veins.  

  Unbelievable.  

  Seaver hardly knew the kid, but hearing that made her blood boil. “So that son of a bitch kidnapped him, tortured and drugged Ried,  REID  of all people, when he was like what, 25?  And he set up a camera for you guys to watch as he tortured   Reid. And you guys just barely found him as he was going to die, but he killed the Unsub?” 

  “Yeah. But Reid....Reid did die. Right in front of,” She did a slow swallow of tears. “In front of us.”  

  More shock was pumped into Seaver.  

  “And during that time, the drugs—the drugs were the only thing that Reid found comfort in, so naturally, that was what he found comfort in dealing with the trauma.” 

  And everything strangely clicked for her. “Oh. That’s - that’s why you were--” 

  “Yes. I’m -I’m scared he’s doing it again. And if he is, I don’t want him to be alone. He’s had a really hard life.”  

  She didn’t know what to say. Sure, Seaver was the child of a serial killer, but being kidnapped and having to deal with that trauma? No, Seaver doesn't think she could survive that. Yes, her father was a murderer, but he at least treated his daughter nicely.  

  She awkwardly placed a hand on JJ’s shoulder, who was now sitting next to her on Reid’s neat bed. “I’m sorry you guys had to go through that.” 

  “It’s alright. It was a long time ago. We’re fine now.” 

  “Are you though?”  

  A ring interrupted their conversation. JJ quickly pulled out her phone, reading the text she had gotten. She jumped up, the floor creaking under the heavy weight. Seaver stood up with her, hands clasped in front of her.  The badges under JJ's eyes were heavier now.

  Come on,” JJ was pulling towards the door and down the hallway. “Rossi and Morgan found something.” 

  “I’ll be right there,” Seaver said, making her way to the window. “I have something I need to do.” And picked up the flower vase.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

YESSS! I know, I finally got another chapter! Angry at the slow writing? Well, here's a longer chapter to make up for it. Also some pissed BAU family feels along with some happy ones. <3
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND FEEDBACK! I love seeing how many people love reading my story, so thank you. Kudos to you.
Love, Jovi.
Also, sorry about Reid.
JK
Not sorry.

Chapter 4: Leave a Light On

Summary:

The team fights and someone opens their eyes

  Morgan wanted to punch someone. 

  Pacing with his hand covering his mouth, Morgan stood in the ever-familiar brief room. His mouth, which was twisted into a tight frown of rage, hurt. The mouth that so desperately wanted to spit out words of his own, words that would anger his mother.  

  Rossi sat on the comfortable chairs, his eyes downcast, hand over his mouth as well. The grey and white in his hair was now noticeable, the light reflecting off the shiny colors; the wrinkles that marked his skin were drawn up from the frown he made.  

  He looked older.  

  Distressed.  

  Morgan wanted to punch someone; it was that simple.  He wanted to punch JJ and Hotch as they walked in. And Seaver, who was following suit. Their faces were like the other agents', faces of distressed frowns. He knew what they were.  

  A messed up, pissed off family.   

  Rossi looked up, his eyes scanning the room. He looked at Morgan, then back, gesturing the rest to sit.  

  He also wanted to punch Rossi.  

  He wanted to punch everything and anything.  

  As Seaver moved to sit, Morgan noticed her horrified face, eyes filled with fear, and her face morphed into a state of shock. He could tell she was trying her best to hide it and was failing miserably. Sketched in horror, like a child learning about the horrors and existence of serial killers.  

  “So?” JJ asked, looking annoyed, angry, and sad all at the same time.  

  “So, like we’ve already said, we’ve got something.” Morgan snapped, holding back his fist.  

  Hotch gave him a warning look, then JJ. His eyes burned to Morgan's, then warning jolting through his mind. Just like the same warning to back off when someone hurts Reid. The same fatherly look he gives all of us. Especially Reid.  

  Morgan averted his gaze.  

  Rossi took the white remote sitting on the table, gazed at it, then clicked one of the buttons. The TV behind Morgan flickered to life, then changed as a video popped up from a click.  

  It was a bit dark and scratchy, the film blinking in and out. But it was clear enough to see the red shirt weave through the oncoming and going traffic of people. The coffee cup in his hand jerked up and down, his flesh white against the brown of the cup.  Reid’s face was pinched in worry, and could be seen as he moved from camera to camera.  

  Eventually, Reid ran into a man; the two startled at the fast collision. Reid looked frantically at his shirt, then up.  

  The man’s back was to the camera. Reid said something in an irritated look, and the man's head shook. And Reid said something again. A meaty hand shoots out and grabs Reid’s shoulder. In return, Reid looks in disgust and pushes himself back. Morgan knew that move all too well.  

  Kissing is probably safer than handshakes.   

  Morgan held back a chuckle. He wanted Reid to be by his side, spitting facts and thoughts, even if it was annoying or awkward; it still was Reid. It was still his best friend. And Morgan missed him. 

  The screen paused, stopping with the man's hand hovering over Reid's coffee as Reid himself was pushing back in disgust, not noticing the hand. In the hand was a small vial of liquid, mid-motion of pouring into the cup.  

  “There.” Even though the others could clearly see the vial, Morgan broke the silence. “That’s how the drugs got into his system. I remember seeing that same coffee cup yesterday morning. He kept taking swings.” 

  “Who’s the guy?” Seaver said, pointing out the important topic. 

  Morgan shrugged. “Dunno.  But definitely not Reid’s friend. You saw the way he kept inching back. Like he was being threatened.” 

  A ping interrupted the room, and Hotch stood up. “I have to take this.” He said urgently, looking at his now pulled-out phone.  

  “Who is it?” JJ asked.  

  Hotch held up a finger and left the room, pushing buttons and pushing the phone up to his ear. His voice could be heard softly floating through the door.  

  “I don’t think he slept well that night.” JJ put forth, her blue eyes clouding.  

  “You think?” Morgan snapped. The kid has never had good nights. Always plagued with nightmares that weren't his and experiences that were.  

  JJ looked shocked at his seething emotion. Seaver suddenly looked uncomfortable, like she was intruding on a personal matter. Rossi just sat, listening to the conversation, his eyes half lidded, hands held together. 

  “If it weren't for you, Reid would probably be a lot better than he is right now.” Morgan hissed, his anger boiling at high. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. All the pain, the hate, and the anger just want to come pouring out like waterfalls, destroying anyone and anything in his path. But through the chaos, one thought was clear as day: 

  The kid’s been through enough.  

  JJ stood up, her hands shaking and her eyes swelling with tears. “How dare you- how dare you , accuse me, me,  that’s my fault Reid was taken. That it was my fault Reid was tortured for days, and we couldn’t find him? That it’s my fault we couldn't find Reid? My fault that all the trauma that Spence, my Spence, went through and will most likely go through in the future?!” 

  “Not splitting up and letting Reid go alone after a serial killer would have made the situation a lot better. Even worse, he was just, what, 25? He was too young to die! He could’ve died in the hostage situation with Phillip Dowd! He did die with Tobias. His heart broke when Prentiss died! The kid’s physically and emotionally damaged!” 

  “Aren’t we all?” Shouted back JJ. “And Prentiss dying and Dowd taking both Reid and Hotch was not my fault. It was Ian Doyle and Phillip Dowd's fault. And Reid has gone through more. Almost getting shot, taking down killers, getting beaten. Spence holds a gun for his job.” 

  “Who knows, maybe you and Reid not splitting up would’ve saved us one hell of a job and trauma.” 

  JJ looked ready to throw herself onto Morgan. And Morgan immediately felt guilty. All the anger that was hibernating just came rushing out, piling words upon words, and he couldn't stop himself. He knew JJ was right. It was no one’s fault. It was the killers and the people who made them. Not the people who take them down. 

  Rossi’s chair crashed on the ground. “Okay. Okay! Stop it! I know you’re angry, but take it out on the son of a bitch who did this to Reid, in the present, not the past. Don’t take it out on each other now. We all know it wasn’t anyone's fault.” 

  The door to the room opened to show a bewildered Hotch, phone in hand and a frown tugging at one side and a smile on the other of his mouth.  

  “Stop. Both of you, that’s an order. Another fight happens, you’re both off, got it?”   

  JJ hung her head in shame and Morgan stiffly nodded, trying to hold back the guilt that wanted him to fall to the floor.  

  “Good. And the way I see, Reid was probably going to be taken anyway. You know that the computer still had the camera on. You know that in the eyes of Tobais, Reid was a sinner. It was neither of your faults. Now get out. Go get some sleep. Go do something to regenerate.”  

  Please, please I-I-I'm not a sinner!  

  “But-” Morgan’s protest was stopped by a glare.  

  “If you want to stay on. Go. Home. Get. Some. Sleep.” 

  Point made, both JJ and Morgen left, the day's exhaustion and sadness making their bodies seem so small. The guilt weighed both of them down.  

  Hotch sighed, and put his fingers on his nose, squeezing and letting his eyes fall shut.  

  “Hey,” Rossi said softly and put a hand on his friend's shoulder.  

  Seaver gazed at Rossi then at Hotch. “It’s going to be okay. I mean, you guys got this far, you guys can get through this, right?”  

  Another sigh escaped Hotch’s mouth. Seaver was right. They got this far, Reid coping, then team coping, and Gideon’s sudden leave, and Reid getting clean. The team healing, once again, from a false trauma. They can get through this.  

  I just wish Emily were here.  

  That’s what Reid told him a while ago, when the young agent came to him in distress, fearful that he was going to start again to put off the pain and sadness of losing Prentiss. He so desperately wanted to, but Reid came to him and told him. And Hotch was able to help.  

  If Reid didn’t, then who knows what would’ve happened.  

  That scared Hotch.  

  Right down to his core.  

 

 

 

 

  Garcia was so happy, she wanted to explode. 

  She was too tired to keep her eyes open anymore. Even though she was an agent – or in other words, a tech analyst. It was her job to be randomly woken up at midnight and get in front of a screen to help her team. It wasn’t unusual, but it was unusual how quickly the day wore her body out; all the stress and worrying about her Boy Wonder could do that. 

  The moment his eyes opened, Garcia wanted to scream with joy. Yes, she knew that he was going to wake up, but she didn’t realize how happy and great it would be to see those brown eyes of his.  

  He groaned, his head lolling sideways slowly and unsurely. His eyes fluttered open, only to shoot back down. A mumble rattled off his mouth, and his hand raised like he was pointing, then flopped back down on the bed with a soft thunk.   

  Garcia searched for his hand and caught it, intertwining his long slender fingers with her small ones. She shivered at the cold contact. His hands were freezing. They were so cold, cold as the snow in the winter.  

  His hand latched on hers, a strong hold. Garcia gasped in pain as he started to hold harder. Blue started to take over the pale, pink hand as it started to feel numb. Panic set into her as she yelled for help.  

  Nurses crowded into the room, one with a shot and injected it into his IV drip. The other was softly rubbing Reid’s hand, his death grip on the tech analyst's hand, loosening. Garcia dimly heard the words that were said: 

  “Too much –Dilaudid---system.” 

  “Careful--one drip – trouble being --- control in movements.” 

  The nurse in her face brought her back to reality, staring at hazel eyes and blue scrubs.  

 “Ms. Garcia?”  

  Garcia looked up, her body feeling strange and foreign. “Hmm?” 

 “Mr. Reid is sleeping again for now. But he’ll wake in an hour or so.” 

  “Dr. Reid.” Corrected Garcia, her mind on autopilot.  

  “Dr. Reid.” The nurse said again. “He had no control over his muscles, which is a natural occurrence with seizures. I assume he recognized your hand and grabbed onto it in a panic.” 

  Garcia nodded, knowing that Reid hated hospitals, and in the confusion and panic, she knew Reid found Garcia’s hand his only way of comfort. Comfort that he didn’t want to let go. “He’s going to be okay though, right?”  

  “Yes. He should wake back up soon. We didn’t give him a high dosage of sedatives, in fear of the drugs.” 

  “Alright. Okay,” Garcia nodded. “Thank you.”  

  The nurse squeezed her hand in comfort and left, a breeze sending shivers down Garcia’s spine. 

  With her gone, Garcia felt sleepiness creep into her body, sagging her shoulders. She knew that the cost of keeping her eyes open, for her Boy Wonder, was the dark bags that slipped under. The adrenaline that filled her body that morning started to vanish, making her feel wary as she picked up her phone.  

  It rang once. 

  Then twice. 

  Then a voice picked up from the other side. 

  “Garcia?” 

  “Oh, sir! Hi!” Garcia wanted to keep up good spirits. She knew that Hotch was slipping himself under his mask. 

  “Are you alright? Is Reid alright?” 

  “I’m fine, at least, I think I am. And Reid is fine now. He woke up a couple of minutes ago, and he wouldn’t let go of my hand. H- he just kept grabbing harder and harder, and he wouldn’t let go. I know he’s scared, and I wanted to help him. I-I just don’t know how.” 

  “Look, Reid’s a fighter. He fought for his mother. He fought for his smarts. He fought in his job. All the Unsubs we’ve caught or encountered, Reid has fought. And he still fights. He fights for us, he fights to keep himself clean, and he has fought about it for years. He’ll be alright.”  

  Garcia nodded, even though she knew Hotch couldn’t see. He was right. Reid has fought all his life. Everything and everyone, even if the world turned its back on him. Even when times seemed hopeless, he still fought. “Okay. He should be waking up soon.” 

  “Okay.” In that background, Garcia could hear yelling over the buzz of the phone and the place Hotch was at. “I got to go. Keep me posted.”  

  Hotch hung up, and the tone sounded. Garica hoped everything was alright back with the rest of the team. 

 

 

 

He opened his eyes and sighed. 

  It was dark.  

  He felt an itch in the back of his brain, but nothing came up. Nothing.  

  Words would appear, but nothing would make sense. The room he was in was confusing. A dark room with the blinds pulled over the window. It wasn’t dark out yet. It was just the early morning.  

  He tried to sit up, his hands at either side of him, and he pushed. Pain spiked out of his left arm as if nothing had happened, and his right arm pushed him up. He groaned and stared down his arm. It lay numb on the blanket, a tickling sensation moving up and down.  

  His head felt fuzzy, and his eyes refused to blink, just like his arm. The quiet filled his brain, making the itch in the back of his mind flare up. The flare raced down his arm that was holding him up; it burned, and he fell, the pillows comforting his head as he flopped down.  

  Blabber escaped his mouth. Where was everyone? Why was Reid in this room? He should be on a case. He should be crime-fighting, not lying in this scratchy bed. With his working arm, he pulled off the blankets, and his legs were pushed over the side, and hung over the side of the bed.  

  He pushed off. 

  The floor came real fast. His head hit the hard floor once his legs gave out or didn’t even work. Lying there, with his head in pain and his limbs scattered and tangled. The pain hurt, just like the pain from -- 

  From where? What pain was worse than this aching body, fuzzy mind, hurting head, and weak legs and arms?  

  Yet, the room stayed quiet for just another second, till the door opened and the room flooded with light. It blinded his brown eyes, and he quickly shut them, lying still on the floor, fear rising in his veins. He could hear people rushing in and speaking to each other. Hands grabbed onto him, and words were said. 

  Words that didn’t make sense.  

  A tug on his arm made him yelp in pain. And his brain took him back. 

 

  Trust me, he said. It's good. It‘ll work.   

  He was right, you know? Right, that it’ll work. That it was good. Too good to be honest. But it worked for just a little bit. Just until his father and the angel found out, until a hit on the head made him gag and gasp for air, and his heart stopped.   

  It was good until he died.   

  And yet, he still used it. It was good even after death.  

  The marks on his arm are still there. Pink and raised scars. He wears long sleeves to hide it. To make sure no one needs to know. That no one knows. They can’t. They can’t see that he’s weak. That he never fully healed after it all. After his death.   

  And they act like everything is fine.   

  The chair that his hands are tied to is old, splinters digging into his skin, making him scream and beg harder.  

  The needle that goes in when he wants it but doesn’t really.   

  Please! P-Please, I- I don’t want it.  

  Please, I’m not a sinner.   

 Sinner.   

  Sinner  

  Sinner  

  Sinner  

  Sinner  

  Sinner  

  Sinner  

  Even when the needle comes out, he feels the warmth and pleasure of the drug seeping through his body. He knows it's wrong, but it’s so good. It's still good when the memories of his life are pushed into his brain: His mom, screaming and yelling. His dad is leaving. Him.  

  I’m not weak.  

  Yes, yes you are.  

  No  

  Yes  

  No  

  YES  

  He is weak, but he continues on every day, putting the beating behind him.   

  The swing of the wood from his father's hand.  

  The scowl and disgust and the death from the angel.  

  And the comfort and sorrow from the son.  

  Who was strangely like him.  

  Who did Reid kill?   

 

  “Dr. Reid?”  

  “Dr. Reid, can you hear me?”  

  “I need you to calm down.”  

  “Dr. Reid!”  

Notes:

Ahhhhh! I can't believe I got this chapter out so fast! I have to thank all of those amazing comments and kudos, thank u so much. It makes me feel less scared about my writing. anyway, the end of school is here and I'm so excited. I'm going to high school next year and it's gonna be crazy to get my writing out, I hope u stay till the end <3
If u'r confused on the Reid part, just go with it - ur supposed to be confused. And I feel like JJ and Morgan needed to fight - Morgan is an angry person and JJ is still feeling like a horrible person for keeping that *spoiler* Emily isn't dead. plus they just want to get their hands on who hurt their beautiful boy wonder.
Again thank u and comments and kudos are appreciated
-Jovi

Chapter 5: Ghosts

Summary:

Reid wakes up and the team is at their heels.

Notes:

Spoilers! for season 6

-yes I made a mistake – Prentiss should be alive right now and JJ shouldn’t be there (Seaver in her place) and Corazon take place like 3 or 4 episodes before Valhalla and Lauren. So, work with me and switch everything around. Let’s pretend that Prentiss has already died and Doyle is in the wind hehehe. So Corazon happens after Valhalla and Lauren.

His eyes flew open, the light blinding him. He groaned and slowly blinked his eyes open all the way. But they refused to do so. They refused to open. So, he kept them halfway, able to see the bodies of people around him and holding him down, but not their heads. Not their faces. 

A light flash into Reid’s eyes, fingers lifting his eyelids. He tried to move his head away, but nothing happened. His mind whirled and the fears turned, but nothing came to him. Nothing made sense to him.  

What happened?  

Why can’t I see?  

The thoughts that rushed into his mind just as they left made Reid tingle. Made him shiver and squirm like a child. He didn’t like this. He wanted out, he wanted to go home.  

Home? 

The home where his mother, on most days, didn’t even know who he was and wanted nothing to do with him, and the father who was never there? The home where no one wanted to help. The home where he could not be himself.  

So, the question that was in his head was: 

What home?   

What home did he desperately want to go to? 

A tingle sent his hand flinching, an involuntary movement that sent him jerking awake and clutching his hand in fear. Reid could feel his hand shaking as it rested tightly against his chest, with his whole body stiff in fear. His eyes darted around the room wildly, ready for the phantom fear of another body jumping on him, forcing a needle in him, or kicking him, or beating him, or hitting him, or a gun pointed to his head.  

Simply said, Spencer Reid was scared.  

 

 

 

Garcia watched with wide, sad eyes as Reid suddenly jolted awake and clutched his hand to his chest, with wild eyes just like hers. It made the pang in her heart drop even deeper and harder, making her whole body hurt with sadness. She should not have to see her genius scared and frightened like this, again. Even with a simple touch sent Reid pulled back in a frantic rush, putting his whole body in shaking mode.  

His pale face was even gloomier in the bright lights of the hospital room. His lips blue and dry, his body curled in a ball, protecting himself from outside forces. He looked like a kid again, scared, confused, and worst of all, too young for all this trauma.  

The nurse at his bedside waited patiently with sad eyes. Her gloved hands held the bag of water that was connected to the tube that led to Reid’s crook of his arm, giving him water that he so desperately needed. Garcia could see the nurse trying to stay still, frozen in place, seeing the fear of a needle in Reid’s expression.  

When Reid took a shuddering deep breath, the nurse quickly and gently placed the bag back on the pole, turned, and looked at Garcia. “If he needs anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” 

Garcia gave her a slight smile of thanks. “I will. Thank you.” 

The nurse nodded and left. 

A mumble caused Garcia to sit up straighter and stare at Reid. He let himself uncurl just a little bit, and Garcia was able to see his face. His mouth was moving, but Garcia heard nothing that made sense. His eyes were half lidded, and his hand was slowly moving in a tick.  

Rubbing up and down his arm, going over the needle that was now in his arm. He scratched around it, red lines appearing brightly on the pale skin. Randomly, he stops, mumbles to himself, looks around confused, then shakes his head and continues with his task.  

“Reid?” Garcia asked softly. 

Reid’s head swiveled around, searching for the sound of the voice. His glazed eyes slid over Garcia, but his common sense was still there. “Penelope?” He whispered.  

She shifted forward, getting closer to the wild blankets. Her hand found his instantly, grabbing his palm. His finger wrapped around her in return. The tech genius's heart warmed. “I’m here, my genius. I’m here.” 

Even though he was still so exhausted and frightened, he lay back on his pillow, hand and hand with Garcia, and closed his eyes shakily. “Wha?” 

She laughed, a joyful a breath breath-full laugh. Her eyes sparkled and her smile brightened. “Oh, Reid, it's okay. You're okay.”  This strange figure of a man now sounded like Spencer Reid.  

He opened his brown eyes. “No seriously, what happened?” 

Garcia looked around, hesitating. She wasn’t sure whether it was okay or not to tell him what happened. Especially if it broke through the good memories to the old ones, recreating new pains along with old. 

She - they weren't ready to see him in pain again.  

“Nothing to worry about. All that matters is that you’re alive. Oh! Oh, Reid, the team is gonna freak out that you’re awake!” She clamped around the bed, phone in hand, and trying not to lose the contact that Reid let her have.  

The loud noise of the heels connecting with the floor sent an echoing scream towards Reid. He winced; eyes pushed shut in fear. Hand and hand ripped apart from each other, one pulling away in distress and the other in surprise. Reid curled back in on myself, like a child crying.  

When looking closely, Garcia could see that Reid was trembling.  

 

 

 

Hotch glared at the scene playing out in front of him. He’s watched the same scene for minutes, maybe even hours; he could not tell. He was tired, annoyed, and wanted to get this son of a bitch that hurt his team.  

Even though he’s watched the video many times, every time he is watched it, he has noticed something new:  Like the man that stopped next to the open track, in the corner of the camera, was constantly scratching at his face, fixing his rumpled tie, smoothing out his suit and whipping his brow with a ringed finger, a worried husband who forgot he was married. Like how that kid with small eyes and a small body darted her head back and forth, preying on victims who were busy or worried, such as the man who forgot. Based on her ragged clothing and horrible skin, a kid helping a family in need. Like how that woman next to Reid glanced back and stepped into his path, making him side-step and crash into the man. 

Who was there purposely?  

There was no denying it. The woman, who held her head high and her eyes sharp, kept a close eye on Reid as his red shirt bounced around, and when the time came, looked at her phone, put it up to listen, and moved aside.  

When the move had been made, Reid changed his path and, without looking, smashed into the man, and the man, in turn, shifted his head so slightly that anyone could’ve missed it. But not the BAU. They were the professionals here. Not the unsubs, but them. The woman turned her head, but not far enough. Hotch only saw the point of her nose, the gleam in her eye, and the small smirk on her red lips. 

The rage in Hotch only boiled higher.  

But as good as this was, to find that the unsub has a partner, it is still no closer to finding Reid’s attacker. Even worse, the director called, along with Erin Strauss, telling them that they had 36 hours to get something solid and get their shit together if they wanted to stay on this case. So far, they were doing one hell of a crappy job.  

Yes, this wasn’t the first time they had a case so close to home, but like everyone else is thinking, it brought back memories that were better buried.  

Hotch slammed a fist on his desk. He was alone in his office, with his computer screen bright and his mind barely working. It was hard to think when you just lost one of your own to a long-time fight and almost lost your youngest and brightest mind.  

It’s scary.  

A ringing phone made Hotch jump, eyes wide in panic. He took a shaky breath and picked it up. 

“Hotchner.” He announced with courage. 

“Oh, Hotch! I’m so happy to hear your voice. How’s everyone else? I know it wasn’t long, but I need to know all about my babies. How are they? Oh! I have good news. New that you’ll love and love me forever.” 
“Garcia.” Hotch stopped Garcia rambling, letting some of the stress and stiffness leave his body. “Everyone is fine. Tired and ready to kill this guy, but good.” He chuckled. “I’ll love to hear good news if it means that you’ll love us, and we’ll love you.”  

Hotch could practically hear Garcia smile on the other side of the phone. It wasn’t like Hotch to usually play along with the tech analyst's crazy ways of joy, but Hotch had nothing to lose right now. Right now, he wanted to gain something: his team. His family.  

“Oh! Yes sir! You’ll be glad to hear that Reid's awake.  

Relief filled him, making him sag. “That's great,” Hotch confessed. “How’s he doing?” 

“Oh, I think he’s doing good. He’s a little confused. Who wouldn’t be after being drugged like that? A bit shaken up, but other than that, he’s good.” Garcia shared. “Oh, also. He wants to go home.” 

Hotch laughed. “I’m sure he does.” 

“Oh, no. He really wants to go home.” 

He laughed again, glad for some of the ease that Penelope was making with him. He enjoyed it. He never really got close to Garcia like the others, but it was nice.  

“I know this is never your favorite part, but do you think he’s up for some questioning?” 

Garcia quieted. “I’m not sure. I know I wouldn’t. But let me ask the boy wonder himself.” 

Hotch heard some shuffling and static, then background voices. He waited for a little bit, his eyes closing softly as the days finally blurred together as he got more tired and tired.  

“He says that he wants to. If only he gets to do it at HQ.” 

“Tell him that he gets no deals,” Hotch replied, with a slight smile.  

“Then no.” 

Hotch thought for a moment, and Morgan popped into his mind. “Unlimited Jell-o if he says yes to doing it there.” 

Garacia replayed the message.  

“Fine, he says simply. Garcia said sadly. “Just a hop, skip, and a jump, then all will be well,” she grumbled softly. 

“Ok. Rossi, Seaver, and I will be over. See you then.” 

“Ok. Drive safe.” 

The Unit Chief hung up.  

 

 

“You're sure you're okay, kid?” Rossi asked for the hundredth time.  

Reid rolled his eyes in an annoyed-but-so-happy-that-you-care look.  He scratched his arm, making more red marks on top of faded marks. He seemed to scratch too deep, but he showed no knowledge of pain. Or the fact that he was scratched.  “I told you a million times. I’m fine.” 

“Yeah, and I’m James Bond.” It was Rossi’s turn to roll his eyes.  

Reid cocked his head. “But James Bond in’t real.” 

“You mean isn’t.” Seaver corrected.  

Reid jerked back in fear and confusion. “No, I’m not.”  He augured. His eyes widened and he slapped himself on the head, mumbling.  

Garcia smiled sweetly while gently placing a hand on Reid’s shoulder, letting him know that it was alright.  

Hotch was shoulder to shoulder with Rossi, and the older agent could feel the emotions flying off his friend. Hotch turned and stared down at JJ and Morgan, who showed up before the trio showed up. Hotch’s face turned from soft and neutral to glaring eyes and a hard mouth. He’d questioned why they were there when Garcia stepped, admitted to calling them. Saying that Reid needs all of them, especially JJ and Morgan.  

“If you too don’t get together, then you’re off the case. Both of you.” Hotch told them, his eyes still glaring. Every once in a while, he would glance at the small body on the hospital bed, and his eyes would soften along with a kind smile spreading quickly on his mouth.  

“Yeah, we get it now,” JJ said guiltily. “It’s just, when someone hurts one of us....” She trailed off. 

“Yeah,” Morgan agreed. “That son of a bitch is going down.” 

Reid looked at them slowly, his eyes wide and his hair wild. He folded his arms around himself and shivered, curling into himself even more. The red on his arm is bright on the other side too. Rossi heard the young agent exhale shakily and squeeze his wide eyes shut, making them look so small. Quiet mumbling got Garcia's attention back on Reid. She shook him slightly, whispering things like, “It’s okay, honey,” or “It's over, boy wonder. It’s over.”  

Reid continued to mumble, with Garcia whispering comforting things back. Rossi stared at the young adult, eyes growing tired and sad at the poor sight of a small, frail body curled in on itself. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes and the hair on his chin. 

“No, I don’t want it.” 

They all looked at Reid, who was now staring at Garcia with a fearful, angry face, his eyes filled with dread and darting around in excitement. 

 Rossi felt Hotch tense up beside him.  

Garcia looked startled, with her lips quivering. “Hey, Reid, it’s okay.” 

Her hand, now on Reid’s shoulder, shook him.  “Reid.” 

His head jerked up at her, eyes sparkling and confused. “I don’t remember.” He shook his head, hair flopping and twisting. “I don’t remember.” He whispered.  

“Remember what?”  Morgan asked softly 

Reid blinked slowly, let his eyes dart around, once again then a yawn escaped him. 

“Night.”  

“Remember what?” Morgan asked again. But he was too late, as Reid vanished underneath his white blankets. 

 

 

Notes:

To be honest, I didn't love this chapter. I felt like I wasn't gettin anywhere with who drugged Reid and the investigation. It just felt slow and... I don't know, boring. But please, leave your feeling and ideas for later chapters! I really love all the love and attention this story is getting. I never thought it would blow up so thank you!
Also, I do have a special someone in mind who may or may not behind Reid drugging. I just watched the episode Spencer on season 12 and Matthew gave a great performance of being drugged and confused, keep in mind that's what I'm going for.
Again thanks so much and so sorry this Is late (Crying face)
Love, ur fave classic rock listener
Jovi

Chapter 6: Carry You

Summary:

Yes, Morgan knew. No matter how much Reid tried to hide it, Morgan just knew. After all the trauma the kid had endured, the agent wasn’t surprised to see the signs: distant, shaky, disappearing into the bathroom for extended periods of time, the times he was gone from his chair in the office; it wasn’t easy guessing and it broke Morgan’s heart to discover the truth, but it was truth, nonetheless.
And he was just finally cooling down about the fight with JJ, and then suddenly, Reid whispers those words: I don’t want it.

Morgan took his time getting the coffee.  

It wasn’t because he was tired or something, but because he couldn’t go through that again. He would not go through the two torturous days again, worrying and wondering if his friend was going to make it out alive or dead and really hoping for the former. And when he did make it out.... damn, Morgan was giddy with joy and happiness, only to find that Reid was physically and mentally broken.  

Broken into two pieces: The one who was wrong and distant, and the other who was right and scared.  

The two pieces: One did drugs, and the other didn’t, but couldn’t help himself.  

Yes, Morgan knew. No matter how much Reid tried to hide it, Morgan just knew. After all the trauma the kid had endured, the agent wasn’t surprised to see the signs: distant, shaky, disappearing into the bathroom for extended periods, the times he was gone from his chair in the office; it wasn’t easy guessing and it broke Morgan’s heart to discover the truth, but it was truth, nonetheless.  

And he was just finally cooling down about the fight with JJ, and then suddenly, Reid whispers those words: I don’t want it.   

He could just feel the unease in the air – the tension as everyone’s minds went blank, not sure how to process what had been said. The way bodies stiffened when the words left Reid’s mouth. And out of the corner of his eye, Morgan could see the way Rossi eyed the other agents with suspicion and fear, and how Seaver seemed to be uncomfortable, in between sureness and uncertainty about what had been said.  

And Reid. He’d seem......excited about it.  

Morgan closed his eyes and shook his head. The smell of the warm, bitter but sweet liquid filled the air, stuffing Morgan's nose full of memories: coffee breaks with the team. The smell brought his brain back from the whirlwind in his head.  

And yet, here he is, getting coffee, while his friend in a hospital room, somewhere in this building of mazes, sleeping off what almost killed him.  

Good times.  

Pulling away too quickly, brown liquid escapes its prison and splashes against Morgan’s skin, making him hiss in pain.  

“Damn it.” Mogan cursed, almost dropping his cup. His voice was scratchy and rough, like sandpaper against a rock. 

With his mouth in a tight line, Morgan set the cup down and grabbed a napkin nearby, and wrapped it around his burn. Though it hurt, Morgan didn’t care. All he cared about was the fact that he felt something other than the pain of seeing his best friend hurt. Any kind of pain beats that pain. 

Holding down the napkin with his fingers, Morgan picks up his cup with his other hand and skips out of the growing line, sorry for keeping everyone. 

Morgan had decided to stay while everyone else left back at the office. The agent just couldn’t stand being in that room, with too many sad memories. To many that were happy turned sad. Morgan just needed a break and saw his Boy Wonder.  

His step echoed the halls that seemed too empty, even though they weren’t. Holding his coffee, Morgan knew that Reid would want some. After having to deal with just hospital food, the older agent couldn’t blame him, but the food was better for his weaker body than this.  

Arriving at Reid’s room, a nurse bustled out, her blonde hair swaying as she ducked her head and said hello. Morgan returned the gesture.  

Reid was sitting upright on his bed, scratching at the already red crook of his arm. The same arm that had the abused with needles and he--  

Stop it. Morgan chided himself. 

“Hey kid,” Morgan said. 

The mop of brown hair looked up, his eyes wide and full of fear and confusion and then endless nothingness. Morgan wasn’t sure what the kid was feeling, but he knew it was nothing good. That’s how it usually was with Spencer Reid: the usually simple ‘beating yourself up,’ but to the kid, it was everything.  

Morgan glanced down at the red skin that was under Reid’s hand. He was sure that the nurse had tried to get Reid to stop scratching and was unsuccessful – obviously. But through the redness, Morgan could see the red and purple dots that lined the crook of his arms. – the needle marks. 

Reid followed his gaze to his arm, then put a hand over, hiding the vulnerable red flesh. Morgan tried not to throw up as his gaze flew to the windows. As an agent who sees everything and is sick as hell when his best friend gets drugged, saying the word flesh, wasn’t the smart tool in the toolbox.  

“H-hey.” Reid stuttered out.  

Morgan so desperately wanted to let his eyes roam over the younger agent, to take in that his friend was just simply alive. But he couldn’t do it without making Reid and himself feel uncomfortable.  

“How are you holding up?” Morgan was surprised his voice wasn’t as rough as when he spilled the coffee. 

Reid chewed the inside of his mouth, unsure of what to say, but trying to hide the unease.  

“Hey, do not.” Morgan expressed firmly. “Tell me the truth, kid.” 

He watched as the stiffness left Reid’s body, and with it, his hardcore façade. As his face fell. 

“I - well – I – fine. Guess. I dunno. I’m scared.” Reid looked up at Morgan, and he meant his eyes this time. The older agent could see the fear clearly visible in his brown eyes.  

Morgan slowly moved to sit on the edge of the bed and placed his coffee on the table next to him.  “It’s okay, Reid. It’s okay. Repeated it with me.”  

Reid opened his mouth, no doubt to complain and deny, but Morgan glared at him, making his mouth fall into a frown as if saying ‘no fair.’ 

“It’s okay,” Reid whispered. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”  

“ Yeah, yeah, you are, kid. We’ve got you, man.” Morgan reached out to place a hand on Reid. But he thought more of it and shied away. “No matter what. We are gonna get this son of a bitch.” 

Reid smiled a little and glanced down. He reached out carefully and placed a hand on Morgan’s leg. “Hey, um...er. I’ve never said...” He closed his eyes, thinking hard.  

Morgan couldn’t blame him. Being heavily drugged, never a fun experience, from what Morgan has seen. But this is Reid. He had this experience more than once, and that seems like torture. 

“It is okay. Take your time.” Morgan reassured.  

“Umm.” Reid pulled a closed fist to his forehead and started to pound it against, what Morgan could assume, his raging skull.  

“Reid,” Morgan said.  

But the kid didn’t stop. He just kept on pounding his fist to his head, each hit going harder and harder.  

Morgan put both his hands on Reid's fist, stopping him like a gear shift.  

“Reid .”  

Brown eyes meant brown again. Morgan felt his heart give another painful drop. Reid had been through enough, and this process was just going to repeat itself. And Morgan just couldn’t endure it to the end. He wanted revenge. Revenge from the person who hurt his best friend. This son of a bitch was going to die.  

“Sorry,” Reid said sheepishly. “My brain's a little......fuzzy?” 

“Oh boy. Your brain is very fuzzy.” Morgan chuckled. “But don’t worry. A day or more and you’ll be good to go. Bye-bye fuzzy brain.” 

Reid blushed. “You know, you don’t have to treat me like a kid.” 

“Yeah,” Morgan eyed Reid. “I do. Because you’re my kid. Our kid. And I know I've said this many times, but no – no one – hurts our kid. Got it?” 

As Reid glanced around the room, seemingly avoiding Morgan's eye contact once again, he gave a little shake of his head, so tiny that Morgan himself barely noticed it, but he noticed it, nonetheless.  

Finally, Reid looked at Morgan, then down at his hand. “What happened?” 

Morgan remembers the white napkin around his hand. “I burned myself getting coffee. I’m okay though.” 

“Thank you,” Reid said sluggishly. “That's what I wanted to say. Thank you.” The younger agent scratched his arm, the burn on the other hand forgotten. “I don’t - can’t think of what for. But thank you.” 

Morgan smiled slightly. He suddenly found himself with his arms wrapped around Reid’s small form, a grin on his face. He could feel Reid’s stiff body slowly relax in the bigger man’s grip, as if someone finally noticed that all he needed was a hug. Morgan knew deep in his heart that he did.  

“Anytime, kid. Anytime and anywhere.”  

 

 

 

 

 

JJ sat in her chair, staring at Reid’s empty desk.  

She didn’t know why, but this case was flooring the team. Having them run wild in the world only to return with shoulders slumped and spirits, a dead end, all the while their revenge sinks deeper and deeper into their hearts, making them angrier. It’s been days, and still no strong lead to bring justice to Reid.  

The blond woman sighed. She did know why this case was flooring them. It was Reid.   

When they were in Atlanta, the only reason they found the boy genius was by pure luck, because of Reid. The only reason they didn’t need to rescue Reid when they landed their feet on the dirt and smelled the woods and the distaste of burnt fish in the air was because of Reid, because he had gathered the courage to oppose Tobais. Even in his weakened and dwindled form, Reid still found the strength to fight the gun from Tobais’s hand and shoot him.  

Without them.  

He saved himself.   

These thoughts in JJ’s head blew out the last little hope she had of finding this attempted killer. JJ didn’t even know what to call him: Drugger? Imposter? Attempted killer sounds all too strange, as Reid is very much alive and probably sitting in his hospital bed, scared out of his wits, mind filled with thoughts better left alone. 

But, alive. 

JJ let that thought sit in her head. It was still hard to shake the phantom feeling of panic as the image of Reid falling around on the ground is burned into her head.  

Gods, she hated this feeling. 

Twisting around, JJ looked through the pane of glass and watched as Hotch pressed a worried hand to his scrunched brow, face pale and exhaustion obvious. JJ doesn’t think Hotch has gotten enough sleep over the past few days. Always breaking up the heat between her and Morgan and on constant guard. 

Speaking of which, JJ wondered what Morgan was doing. He had stayed with Reid while everyone else left for the office to get some work done. That was the hope at least. JJ was fairly sure that working was on the opposite of everyone's agenda.  

This is hopeless. 

They are the freaking BAU. The best of the best, so why couldn’t they solve this at-home case fueled by rage and revenge?  

It just didn’t make sense.  

JJ twirled in her chair once more, then stopped in front of her blank computer screen, which was longing to be used. She could see her tired face staring back at her. Although the dark screen didn’t show the bags under her eyes, she knew they were there. The sleepless nights, with the window open and her body still too hot, and Will looking at her blue eyes, telling her it’ll be okay.  

JJ put her head into her hands and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that this was just a long nightmare, and she would soon wake up.  

But she knew that deep in her heart, that wasn’t true, and she wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon.  

A ringing disturbed the blonde agent. She shot up, confused, and fumbled for her phone, grabbing the long black piece of plastic off her desk. When the ringing didn’t stop, JJ cursed and went to find her personal phone. Pulling up the object, JJ stared at the caller. 

She answered with a slight smile. 

 

Notes:

oh, hey! I'm not dead!
Now, please, bare with me, I just couldn't write and no idea how to move forward with this story. I've also been busy with school and writing other stories, so.......
But here we are, with a new chapter headed into a great direction. so, yay! It also doesn't help when I can't watch Criminal Minds anymore since Netflix only has 12 seasons :(
Anyway, hoped you enjoyed the chapter.
OHOHOHO, who's calling JJ?? hehehehehe. guess you'll have to wait around and find out.
Peace out,
Jovi

Chapter 7: Way Less Sad

Summary:

A mystery call. A much-needed interview and a heartfelt apology. But who is behind this all?

 

“Hello,” JJ answered with a tight smile. Despite the recent events of watching her friend struggle through his long list of traumas, hearing the voice on the phone lifted her spirits.

“Hi,” the voice on the other end responded.

The sound of the voice through JJ’s ear was almost unrealistic. Almost. JJ noticed how the voice sounded off than it normally does. She leaned forward, her chair groaning under her as she braced herself against her desk. Panic crawled at her. “Is everything okay?”

There was some shuffling in the background before they spoke. “No, yes.” A sigh. “Sorry, hard to tell. I’m just in a tight spot at the moment. But I heard what happened, and I think I know who tried to kill Reid.”

Guess JJ needs to brace herself against her desk, just not for the reason she thought. “Really? Who?” JJ asked, desperation and want, and need replaced the panic. She wanted to bring her best friend's attempted killer to justice.

“Hold on,” The voice was partnered with the sound of ruffling, muffled voices. It was almost hard for JJ to make out the simple words spoken next. But she could make out the excited quiver as the voice said: “I’m coming to you.”

 

 

 

 

Reid didn’t want to wake up.

The darkness was warm and cozy, welcoming and friendly, and he didn’t want to go. But he could feel his body waking up. His senses coming to awareness; feeling the roughness of the bed, the coldness of the air, hearing the soft sounds of movement, the beeping of a monitor, the smell of coffee, and the horrible stench of the hospital.

It took him a moment to blink open his eyes, surprised to find the lights dimmed and his surroundings calm and quiet. It felt as if his muscles were frozen while he was asleep and needed to take a couple of years to defrost. His head was woozy and felt strange, which might have been contributed to by hunger clawing at his stomach. He could almost feel the dark purple and blue bags under his eyes. Felt like a heavyweight battle, and his eyes were losing.

He felt the tell-tell familiar tug at his arm, where small, pink pinprick scars would be. Panic shot through the younger agent’s veins. Reid scrambled up from his lying position, his mind on autopilot, his heart beating frantically. Dimly, he heard the speed of the beeping but paid no attention.

“Reid?”

Morgan came into his line of sight, worry written on his face.

He could feel his lungs trying to suck in air.

“Kid, you’re at the hospital, alright? It’s okay. You’re okay.” Morgan’s eyes, which were filled with constant humor, were scrunched up in worry. It struck Reid as weird to see his best friend's face like that. He raised his hands in a ‘I surrender’ way. “Talk to me.”

His lungs hurt now. The panic that had gripped his heart still let no oxygen make its way into his throat. He needs to breathe. To stop his heart from beating so damn fast. To find the person who almost killed him. H-h-he can’t do this right now. He doesn’t want to talk right now.

And yet, his eyes always stayed on the man in front of him. Reid’s mouth immediately spat out the name. “Morgan,” And shook his head. Despite his mind telling him he was in danger, his eyes saw the warming and comforting presence of his friend.

Reid slapped a hand over his face and took a second to breathe. He could feel his heart slow down and hear the monitor slow down with it, the dull thudding in his ear fading. The rapid beeping slowed into the steady beeping.

Now that he was breathing, pieces floated up in his head right as a nurse came rushing in, worry etched on her features.

“Everything alright?” She asked as she checked on all the equipment, then she turned on her heel and pulled out a light. Reid held still as she shone it quickly in his eyes, apparently being satisfied with the result.

With his arms now crossed, Morgan answered. “He woke up and forgot where he was, like he forgot that I am the master of pranks,” he started Reid down, “And I always win, baby.”

Reid, with the pressure of sleep and drugs wearing off, grinned at Morgan. “So, I take it that you haven’t found my last prank, then?”

Morgan looked baffled, looking from Reid to the nurse who was now taking notes on her clipboard.

She smiled up at Morgan and Reid, clearly enjoying their witty banter. “Sorry, Agent Morgan, but I need to check on Dr. Reid. Would you mind leaving the room for a few moments?”

“Not at all, Doc.” Exit center stage for Morgan.

Stepping outside, Morgan took a deep breath. It was scary to see Reid all panicked from waking up, not knowing where he was, what was happening.

An even worse thought hit Morgan: thinking it was all a dream and waking up back in that damn shed. But Reid was doing better. He seemed more down-to-earth, more in the moment. The look in his eyes had cleared, and he was speaking more steadily and coherently.

Morgan pulled out his phone, and it rang. “Hey, Hotch.”

“How is he?”

“He’s up and at them. Seems like we have more of Reid than we did last time. If anything, I think maybe we can finally follow up on that Jell-o deal.”

“Great. I’ll be over in a few.”

“Alright.”

Morgan hung up, putting his phone away, right as the nurse came out of the room. That was surprisingly quick.

“Did the kid kick you out?” Morgan asked.

The nurse laughed and shook her head. “No. Dr. Reid is in surprisingly good spirits. His vitals and levels are good, and it seems the drugs are almost done wearing off. However, I must ask about him and his, I would call it, night terrors. We know that the drugs aren't causing them, but there's nothing in his medical file concerning anything like that. What can you tell me?"

Morgan smiled sadly and wiped a hand down his face. 'Reid, he-he went through something years ago, something that you can't just get over. It seemed that he was fine for a while, but then, a friend passed away, and I would assume it got worse after that." He chuckled sadly. "But it would seem that the drugs are making all those years disappear, and Reid is right back at the start. You never get over something like that..." The image of Reid shaking and choking through the camera flashed violently in his head. 

The nurse nodded, a small frown on her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “That’s horrible. Fortunately, from what you told me, I’m more confident that the drugs are almost out of his system and that he can most likely be released tomorrow or the next day."

She laid a comforting hand on Morgan's shoulder. “Just remember how lucky you all are. If Dr. Reid had drunk any more of his drugged coffee, he wouldn’t be here.” She offered a slight smile and whispered a 'thank you' as she walked away.

Now alone in the hospital hallway, waiting for Hotch and remembering things better left in the mud and how differently things would have turned out, Morgan sniffled back a sob.

 

 

 

“I was trying to rush to work,” Reid spoke, recalling the morning of his attempted murder. I was trying so hard to protect my coffee,” He laughed. It was such a pure sound after hours upon hours of negative emotions. Then he crumpled. “Clearly, I didn’t do such a good job at that.”

Hotch frowned but seemed not to make a note of Reid’s sorrow. “Keep going.”

Reid frowned, remembering where he left off. “I had barely gotten down the stairs and was about to wait at the edge for my train when my phone rang. I guess I was too busy paying attention to my phone than to my surroundings. But I do know that while looking at my phone, I was suddenly caught off guard and bumped into this other guy.” Reid paused for a moment, letting Hotch take in what he had said.

When the Supervisory Special Agent got to the hospital, he had kicked the nurses – politely – out and told Morgan to go back to the FBI building and start going over Reid’s cell phone records. Hotch wanted to conduct his interview alone. He didn’t need Reid freaking out with all the other eyes on him. The interview kept being put off, and they needed it now if they wanted to meet the 36 hours the brass gave them.

So far, everything Reid was telling him was lining up with what he saw on the security cameras. This was, to put it bluntly, a letdown. Despite the similarities of the two accounts, there was still nothing that screamed of attempted murder.

“I was distracted that I barely noticed the bald guy swiping my coffee with the, uh, drugs.” Hotch eyed Reid with a cold look. If you didn’t know Hotch, it would be a simple, cold, hard, and mean look. Reid, having known the man for quite some time, could almost make out the worried fatherly look behind his eyes. The young agent gave a tight smile in return. “I, uh, didn’t have a good night the night before. My head hurt pretty good before the drugs.”

Hotch, of course, knew this from hearing JJ and Morgan fight. He wasn’t surprised in the first place either. Being young and going through that whole ordeal would leave anyone traumatized. “And there was nothing else that was out of your normal routine on the way to the office?”

“No.”

“Anything that was out of the ordinary and out of your normal routine in the past couple of weeks?”

Reid shook his head. “Not really, no....” He trailed off, almost like he was hit by a train, and it was clearly visible. His eyes widen. “Wait, yes. The whole reason I was distracted at the station. I was getting a call – I- I can’t remember if I saw who it was from or not.”

“Who was it?”

“That’s the thing,” Reid answers. “I don’t know. The past couple of weeks, I’d been getting spam calls. It never threw an alarm off for me because, well, getting those is kind of normal, you know?”

Hotch nods. “Sure thing, I get a couple. Never pick them up, but they sure are damn annoying.”

“Exactly. But now that I’m thinking about it, I was getting more than normal. It was really pissing me off and I think because of that and -ahem- other stuff,” Reid swallows thickly.

The white hospital room changed in the corner of Reid’s eyes. White glitched to an eerie black. The emptiness started to press towards the young agent, trying to suffocate him. Orangish red sild up the walls, snaking into veins along the black. A hazy light seemed to flicker on. “It just didn’t stick out to me until now.” Was that really his voice?

“This is great information, Reid,” Hotch assures, looking at his phone. His voice was disoriented. Far away.  “I’ll have Morgan start looking into it.” He then looks up at stares Reid down.

The dark pressed closer. His nose was filled with dirt. A musty smell of old wood. His hands clenched on the hospital blanket. A strange but familiar pulling twinge at the crook of his elbow caused him to inhale aggressively.

“Reid, you need to stop closing yourself off to us.”  A voice said.

It was hard to hear over the buzzing in his ears, the sound of crickets. The sound of dark laughter. Maybe it was the sound of a beeping in a room that was all too distant now. The stench of burning meat hit him. He could see flames licking at scales, the smell of smoke and cooked fish –

“It’s not that.” Reid’s hoarse voice was like a fist grabbing hold of him and jerking him back into the white room, back to the sterile and chemical smell of the hospital. A blue blanket was clutched in his white knuckled fists, the sound of fast beeping accompanying it. Reid made sure not to look at the needle in his arm. Not drugs. Just helping you stay hydrated. Not drugs, not drugs…

A little mantra repeated in his head as he looked up at Hotch, who was looking at him with another cold stare. Reid swallowed again.

“It s-it’s not just that.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow.

“I mean it’s not just, uh, I was doing pretty good until, ah,” It was hard to get the words out. How do you say these things that are killing you but aren’t? “After Emily, I-It got pretty bad.”

It was simple words, but it seemed to break Hotch. His posture slumped, and he wiped a hand over his face. Without even looking at him, the air seemed to be sucked up, and a cold breeze flushed the room. Hotch kept that cold stare on him, even if Reid could still see that fatherly look hidden in those dark eyes of his.

“Reid,” he seemed to be chiding his children. “I know that none of us know what you went through – well, I mean, we know what you went through, we watched” – a gulp – “a good chunk of it, but we weren’t there. You went through so much. You’re in pain so much. The team is here for you.”

Reid didn’t know what to do, so he stared at Hotch with wide eyes. If you first meant Hotch, his tough, cool dementor is a dead giveaway that he doesn’t care. You come to the conclusion that Hotch wasn’t the kind of guy who gave out easy smiles and laughter. But the longer you got to know the lead agent, you would find that he cared by working tirelessly on cases. Working hard, even if it was mostly with a straight, hardened face.

Aaron Hotchner was most definitely not the kind of guy who gave heartfelt, loving monologues.

“Let us help you. We all care for you, so let us care for you.” Now that was something Reid would have never imagined would ever come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth. “We all hurt after Emily’s death, so let us all heal together.”

Reid sat there for a moment, feeling the chill of both Hotch and the hospital prick at his bare skin. He didn’t know what to say to that, having always been someone who kept his struggles close to himself. He was always alone for his hardships, even if he wasn’t; no one else understood. He was alone when his father left, despite his mother being with him physically but not mentally. He was alone when the orderlies came to take his mother away. And he was most definitely alone when Tobias Hankle killed him.

A door shutting jarred Reid out of his thoughts. Hotch had just left, leaving the young agent all alone in his hospital room. But he wasn’t sure if he even felt alone.

 

 

 

Morgan was bored.

That was cheap because he was supposed to be combing over Reid's phone records, but he couldn’t help but feel that was an invasion of his boy wonder's life, his privacy. It was late in the office, the few lights on pushing the dark night at bay. It was quiet in the office too. Rossi and Seaver were going over the security video again, trying to go over it frame by frame to make sure nothing was missed, to see if they could find something new. Maybe in the hopes of finding the identity of the guy who put the drugs in Reid’s coffee. Databases were coming up slow.

Hotch and Garcia were at the hospital, one to ask questions and the other to morally support, even if it was from outside the room.

JJ was at her desk. She seemed to be having the same problem as Morgan, staring at her dark computer screen. The agent had a feeling that they were purposefully left in the office together so that they could apologize to each other for the outburst at each other from the other day.

Morgan did feel guilty, but it was hard to make his way to JJ to say the simple words as “sorry.” It was hard to make out what he felt. Yes, he was angry, angry at this happening to Reid – why young carefree Reid? – he couldn’t do anything to stop it, today and 4 years ago.

He sighed and bowed his head. Okay.

Swinging around, he pushed his chair towards JJ. He landed at her desk like he would: arms leaned over the table, with one arm holding our head up. Charming as always.

JJ turned her head slowly to him. Her blue eyes had bags underneath, her blonde hair hastily wrapped up and out of her face. Hands clasped in her lap and her back bent forward, almost as if she were praying.

“I’m sorry,” she said just as Morgan opened his mouth to say the same thing. She eyed him sadly, then returned her gaze to her clasped hands.

“I—I shouldn’t have said those things. If anything, you were probably right. I blame myself for what happened. I’m constantly going back and wondering what would have changed if we hadn’t split up. Would Reid still have been taken if I were with him?” Her eyes start to fill with tears. “Would my being there have saved Spence from so much?”

“I’m sorry too,” Morgan returned. “But I think Hotch is right. Tobias would have gotten to Reid at some point. The computer camera was still going, in Tobias's eyes, Reid was a sinner.” He sighs. “You being there, he might have killed you or done the same thing he did to Reid to you.”

He kept going. “I also shouldn’t have said those things to you. I was just angry, you know. Angry at all this happening. What did happen? I’m angry because Reid was being tortured and found a way for us to find him. He died in front of our eyes, and we couldn’t do anything. I felt so helpless, watching and knowing that Reid was suffering, and all we could do was watch. Even in the end, it wasn’t us but Reid who killed Tobias. We are FBI agents, and in that moment, it felt like we weren’t!”

Tears were falling down JJ’s face. “I hate this.” She whispered. “I hate that.”

Morgan knew what she was talking about. “I’m sorry. I forgot that you were traumatized by those dogs. But I know that we all are – minus Seaver and Rossi – traumatized by Reid’s torture.” He reached over and laid a hand on JJ’s shaking ones on her lap. “We need to remember what Rossi said that day. To take it out on the son of a bitch who did this to Reid today, not back then.”

JJ nodded, sniffing and sneaking a hand away to wipe her tears.

It was a tender moment for both of them. Having just bared their pain about those nights years ago, sitting in the quiet and dark night in the office, holding each other up with just hands.

However, it was disrupted by the sound of a ringing coming from Morgan's pocket. They both flinched at the noise, and Morgan hurriedly fished out his phone. He quickly answered.

“Derek Morgan.”

“Hey, Hotch.”

“Phone records, yes, I know.”

“Spams? Okay.”

“I’ll see what I can do, I’m no Garcia.”

Then he hangs up.

A sweet smile makes its way to Morgan's face. He gives it to JJ as he puts his phone back in his pocket. “Well,” he said. “Duty calls.”

And he’s pushing himself back to his desk to get to work.

He watches as JJ sighs, turns to face her computer, puts her head to rest on her hands, and gazes at the purple flowers that are sitting on Reid’s desk that arrived today.

The smell is sweet and making its way around the office.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

Guess who's back!!!
I have no excuse for why it took me years to get this chapter up, but I hope you enjoyed it!
Can you guess who's behind Reid's drugging? There have been a few hints throughout the chapters; can you find them?