Chapter Text
Spencer had never been a fan of the gym. After all, the fitness test being waived was the only way he got into the FBI. He generally had no desire to prove that he could meet that bar. As Hotch had reassured him, the hours on cases more than covered him from that. However, since THAT day, he was driven. He knew that it was a coping mechanism. Part of him wished he could just sit on the couch and eat copious amounts of icecream, like a normal person, his brain added on helpfully.
He didn't do it at work. The others would notice, and he didn't feel like fielding their questions. At home he went to the gym in his apartment's basement every night, sometimes twice if he woke up with nightmares. When they were away on cases he tried to slink away when he could. It was harder, but at the very least he could usually sneak off for a 'walk'. The team just assumed it was one of his quirks. And he was happy to let them believe that. He supposed that PTSD was just another thing to add to the list really...
Currently the team was off on a case. They'd landed in the morning and set up at the local station. The others had paired off and visited the crime scenes. Taking advantage of a quieter night, the team retired back to their motel rooms. As usual, he was bunking with Morgan.
Morgan was always prodding Spencer in the direction of 'taking better care' of himself. Spencer exhaled slightly at the irony. The man in question was breathing slowly and steadily in the bed across the room. He hadn't moved since Spencer had woken up in a sweat an hour ago. He decided it was time. Spencer gently peeled the sheets off of his body. The air was groundingly cool against his hot skin. Without making a sound, he stood, and moved to the door. As his clothes were already damp with sweat he decided not to change. Quietly he pulled on his shoes and headed out.
The gym was pretty barebones, a rusty weight bench with some mismatched dumbbells discarded nearby. There was a rickety looking exercise bike in the corner that Spencer briefly considered, but thought better of. A walk would have to do. Turning his back, Spencer recalled the road they'd driven down to get to the motel. It was dusty and pothole-filled, but would do. It was 2am, he could go for a few miles and be back in time for a shower well before the team was up.
He set off, breathing deeply as the air bit at his face and lungs. His hands flitted around his torso as he allowed himself to stim. He felt driven as he walked down the side of the road in the dark. Feet falling into a pace, mind rolling. He let his thoughts wander where they wanted. The cool air and the rough ground were enough to keep him attached to the real world. Or so he thought.
He felt like running. He hated running. But his body wanted to move. To flee. He didn't even know what from. Well, he knew, but running from your own brain's memories was nonsensical. Without running, he let his pace pick up until he was breathing heavily. He felt numb. Better than the panic he thought fleetingly.
He felt his eyes begin to draw to the side of his vision. His feet slowed until he was standing still. The cold was no longer grounding. Spencer couldn't even feel it. He watched unseeingly as wind gently blew at the long grass in front of him. His mind vaguely raised some grounding exercises. 'Count how many blue things you can see, name 3 things you can hear, describe how your body feels' etc. Unfortunately Spencer no longer cared enough to use them. Not that they typically worked anyway. Describing the environment usually just made him feel overwhelmed.
He considered letting his hand fiddle with his jacket. That seemed too hard though. He was stuck where he was. He continued to stare. He was aware of thoughts vaguely floating through his mind, but couldn't care enough to grasp any of them. He knew he was dissociating, but again. Why bother doing anything about it.
Suddenly, he was aware of movement behind him. He couldn't bring himself to care. Statistics about roadside muggings sluggishly ran past his mind's eye. 'Oh well,' he thought. The car had stopped about 100ft behind him. Clouds of dust lit swirled towards him, illuminated by the headlights. The person coming up behind him said something. He didn't hear what. Again, the person called out, getting closer. And then, a hand on his shoulder. Spencer's knees buckled in surprise and he hit the deck hard. "Shit! Reid!" Morgan said in shock.
"Spencer what are you doing?!" He said loudly, squatting down in front of the younger man. Spencer, now sat sprawled on the ground blinked heavily, with panting breaths coming in quickly. He was trying to clear the fog in his brain. He knew it was Morgan, he could see him, but it still felt like he staring through a plane of glass.
"Spencer, can you hear me?"
Spencer forced his head down slightly.
"Are you hurt?"
He couldn't move.
"Spencer? Are you hurt."
'Sorry Morgan.' He thought slowly. 'That's all I've got.'
Spencer could feel himself drifting again. He knew Morgan would keep him safe. He couldn't even care about the embarrassment he knew would come. Future Spencer would have to deal with that, and current Spencer barely existed at the moment. He felt himself being gently lifted up off the ground. Morgan firmly held onto his arm and guided him down the road. Spencer was somewhat glad it was Morgan. Better than Hotch he thought.
Or that's what he thought until Morgan maneuvered him into backseat of the car. Sat in the driver's seat was Aaron. 'Oh well.' He thought again. 'Suppose it could be worse.' He let his eyes drift again, landed on Morgan still standing in the doorway.
"Hotch, he's freezing man. What was he doing out here?"
"I don't know, I'll turn the heater up. Better get in. Sooner we get back to the motel the better I think."
"Yeah, okay. I'll sit back here with him."
Morgan closed the door and walked around the other side. The car began to warm up as Morgan climbed in next to Spencer. Hotch warily watched Spencer in the rearview mirror. The younger agent's face was slack, the absence of affect more pronounced than normal. His body was completely still, hands not even fidgeting.
Within a few minutes Aaron pulled back into the motel parking lot. The security lights turned on and lit up the three men as they exited the car. Spencer, between the other two, was clumsy and looked as if he was sleepwalking.
He was vaguely aware of being led upstairs to the room he shared with Morgan. Pausing at the door to unlock it, Morgan guided him to sit on his bed.
Hotch turned the main lights on and pulled two chairs over. "Spencer, can you hear me?"
Spencer felt exhausted, he couldn't even pull his eyes to look at his supervisor.
"I'm going to touch your hand Spencer." Hotch put his hand under Spencer's, giving him freedom to pull it away if needed. "If you can hear me, move your hand."
The tiniest twitch.
"Good. Do you know where you are?"
Another movement.
"Great, you're at our hotel. Back in your room. You went for a walk. We found you and brought you back here."
Spencer didn't respond. He knew what had happened, but at the same time, it felt like it had happened to someone else. He was sluggishly reflecting on this when someone squeezed his hand, pulling him closer to the present. "-ood Spencer. Sorry, I saw you jump. We're going to help bring you back. Morgan's got your weighted blanket here. He's going to put it on your lap."
Spencer felt the gradual spread of warmth and pressure of the blanket. His hand slowly moved to touch its soft fabric. Morgan and Hotch watched a little relieved. Even the smallest self-directed movement was better than the last half-an-hour of motionless staring.
After another 20 minutes, Spencer blinked hard a few times. He looked around the small motel room, seemingly seeing it for the first time this morning. Hotch was sat at the table in the corner with files open in front of him. Morgan was laid back next to him on the bed, legs hung over the side, feet on the floor.
"-gan." Spencer whispered hoarsely. Morgan immediately sat up. "Hey! Pretty boy, you're back with us." He smiled, turning to face him.
"I think so. What time is it?"
"5:30am. We've been here about an hour."
"Mhm," Spencer hummed.
Spencer looked over at Hotch who had paused and was looking over at the pair. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired"
"You walked nearly 7 miles Spencer. I'm not surprised."
"What? No," He said confused, it was just down the road."
"Yeah Reid, 7 miles down the road." Morgan said steadily.
"But I don't remember being gone that long."
"When we caught up you were pretty out of it Spencer." Hotch said. "Morgan could barely get you into the car."
"Sorry."
"No, Reid, we're not trying to make you feel guilty. We're just worried."
"Has this happened a lot?" Hotch asked.
"Not really. Not this bad."
"Not this bad?"
"Sometimes when I wake up early I go for a walk in the gym. There was slim pickings here though. Honestly." Spencer continued. "I'm fine. It must have been the cold." He pulled himself up to a more rigid posture, trying to pull his mask back on. The warm feeling of embarrassment was beginning to creep in.
Hotch watched dubiously as the young man clearly struggled to pull his internal world back into order.
"Well, I think we both know that's not correct Spencer. It's up to you, when would you like to discuss it? Now or at the end of the day? You're not in trouble."
Spencer considered the options. He didn't really want to wait longer than necessary, but was still too hazy to have a concise discussion now. "Later." He said, avoiding eye contact.
"Okay. I'll leave you to wash up for the day. We'll can talk later. If you need a time out today just say."
"Sure."
Aaron tidied up the files and headed out the door, nodding at Morgan on the way out.
"Alright pretty boy, lets get you ready to go."