"Thanks for coming over to help!" Spencer Reid said to Penelope Garcia gratefully. The cheerful blonde had been dusting off his coffee table. "I really would do all this myself...I guess I just kind of lost coordination because of...well..." He gestured to his neck, which had by then developed a purple round scar. He'd started to have a tad bit of insecurity about it, and when he wasn't at home he was always wearing his scarf.
"No problem!" Penelope waved her hand dismissively. She had on a pair of bright pink gloves with which she used to clean. Despite the fact that she had come over to help clean up, she was still fully accessorized.
Penelope had visited Spencer often while he had been on his medical leave. He had been doing great, especially considering he had been shot in the neck, but because he was still on bed rest, the house work suffered. ...On top of that, the already clumsy doctor seemed to have become even more clumsy after a bullet shot through his neck.
Not to mention he hadn't been very motivated since the news had dropped that Alex Blake had left. Out of all of them, Spencer had been closest to Alex, and they all had known that he would take it the hardest. So, Penelope had made sure to bring him various fattening desserts. He had needed someone to watch out for him, after all. How many times had it been that he had almost died?
"I'm going to go clean the bathroom," Spencer said. He sucked in a deep breath, wrinkled his nose and winced. "I won't make you do that."
"I appreciate that, m'dear." Penelope said. She smiled at him and tried not to laugh as Spencer dragged himself reluctently towards the bathroom. The apartment really was a mess. It wasn't surprising that every time Spencer got upset you found books all over the apartment...and some would be in the oddest of places. She had found one inside the refrigerator. She had been too scared to ask how that had happened.
She had stopped dusting the table, straightened out her back, and looked around the living room with a small pleased smile. It looked as though everything was back in order. All the books that were previously thrown around were back in the bookcase, the layers of dust were skillfully cleaned, they had managed to get a chocolate stain in the couch out, and there were no more books where the orange juice should have been. She took one more final glance around, and then decided to move onto his bedroom. There was no way she was offering help in that bathroom, her services only went so far.
She walked past the bathroom door, inside she heard Spencer muttering to himself, and brought the cleaning supplies into Spencer's bedroom. It hadn't been too bad. It just seemed as though Spencer hadn't been feeling well enough to get his clothes all the way to the hamper, and had eventually given up on trying. There was also a fair amount of dust, and unsurprisingly more books.
Her first mission was the clothes that hung out of the hamper haphazardly. Her next mission was to get all the clothes that Spencer had decided to give up on inside of the hamper. She then decided to move onto the books. She started to make a pile of them, so she could carry them out to the living room and place them back in the book case. She groaned when she noticed they were even on the floor. One was halfway tucked underneath Spencer's, surprisingly made, bed. She reached under to grab it, but was surprised when her hand hit something else hard. It felt too big to be a book, but she pulled it out, anyway. She was shocked when it peaked out from under the bed, the comforter pulled from it, and she saw that it was a small wooden box. It almost looked like a cigar box. Penelope would have known...she'd been over at David Rossi's a few times.
The book laid forgotten next to her, and she ran her gloved hand over the wood of the box. She had her bright red bottom lip tugged between her teeth, and she cast a glance to the closed bathroom door.
'No!' Her brain had yelled at her. 'This is Spencer's private property! You are here to clean, Penelope Garcia! Not to snoop about!' She nodded to herself, and went to push the box under the bed. She really had! But...then... 'Who are you kidding?! You make a living snooping on people!' She then pushed her conscience to the little dark corner of her mind. It would be allowed to come out to play later.
She sucked in a deep breath, and opened the box. Suddenly, she really wished she hadn't. She felt bile crawl up her throat, her eyes widened and instantly grew wet, her mouth hung open, her hands froze where they were hovering above the box, and the ability to breathe seemed to escape her. She was frozen like that for a few terrifying moments, her first movement was to hold her left hand up to her mouth in horror.
"Oh, Spencer..." she whispered in despair. For in the unsuspecting little wooden box lay a vial, a syringe, and a strap for him to tie around his arm. "No..." She whimpered. Horrible images crowded the bubbly blonde's mind. Images of one of her dearest friends, with a needle hanging out of his arm, strung out beyond comprehension. Another image, of Spencer on the streets purchasing drugs. Then yet another image of Spencer's hands on the box, cell phone just inches away, contact list full of friends that he could have called instead, her name being one of them.
She had known about Spencer's past with drugs, they all had. They never talked about it, and they had all thought it was over. She wondered how it was possible that she could have been so stupid. How did she never noticed it? They all noticed the change in Spencer before. He had been irritable, and borderline cruel. But that hadn't been Spencer lately, and that had rarely ever been Spencer since.
"Hey! I just finished with the bathroom. It should smell like chemicals for a little whi-what are you doing?" She managed to tear her eyes away from the box, and its horrible contents, and gaze at Spencer, who stood in the doorway of his room. He looked to her with concern, the bed blocked his view of the contents on the floor. "Are you okay-." He walked forward, the bed moved from his view, and he at that moment saw what Penelope was then kneeling in front of.
"What have you done?" Penelope asked him in horror. Her eyes were wet with tears, one then dribbled down her cheek, and landing on the lavender sweatpants she had put on for the cleaning occasion.
"Nothing!" Spencer rushed forward. He put the lid back on the box and kicked it under the bed, as if it made everything better. "I didn't do anything!"
"Don't lie to me." Penelope told him sternly. Her voice was still emotional, upset, despair ridden, but it then held a bit of anger in it, as well. She stood up, still not at equal height with the much taller man, but it made her feel less weak.
"I'm not!" he assured her. He narrowed his eyes. "Why were you going through my stuff?!"
"DON'T!" She held up a gloved finger to him. Her eyes narrowed behind the rims of her glasses. "Explain! Now!"
Spencer looked from the spot under the bed, and then back to his friend. He bit his lip, and tried to bring back the indignant attitude he moments ago nearly developed, but couldn't bring it upon himself to summon it. "This really isn't what it looks like..."
"Oh it's not, is it?" she asked sarcasticall, "Because newsflash, Reid, every time someone says it's not what it looks like, it's exactly what it looks like!" she hissed. "I had a boyfriend in high school who I caught cheating on me. You know what he said?"
Spencer winced. "That it's not what it-."
"That it's not what it looks like!" She cut him off. She looked at him with a mix of concern and fury. "So just...tell me what's going on right now! You owe me that much!"
Spencer flinched as he recalled the terrifying moment in the hospital...the nurse about to inject a harmful substance into his IV, Spencer tearing out his IV, the nurse pulling out his gun, and Penelope bravely shooting him before he had a chance to harm him. She saved his life. She shot someone to save his life.
"I haven't taken anything," he assured her. She looked furious and went to cut him off, but he held a finger up to her. "I haven't. Not in years. That stuff in there, hasn't been touched for years. The vial isn't even open, and the needle hasn't been used."
"Okay, well, if you're not using it, then why is it under your bed?" she asked. She still at the time couldn't be sure if she bought the story, despite the honesty that Spencer then held in his eyes as he spoke to her.
"Because I need it." he told her. She looked at him in shock. He ran a hand through his hair anxiously. "It sounds bad. I know it sounds bad. But I can't get rid of it, Garcia. I just can't."
Penelope stared at him for a few long moments. Spencer's eyes were wide and desperate, but Penelope just looked disappointed. She shook her head and turned away from him. "I'm going home." she declared. She went to walk away but Spencer gripped her shirt sleeve.
"Garcia, please don't-." She pulled herself away from him and shot him another hurt look.
"I'm not going to be in the same apartment as that...stuff," she said in disgust. "You need something, Spencer. But that's not it. When you realize that, I'll be happy to come back and finish helping you clean up." Spencer hung his head in shame, and Penelope had to fight herself not to run forward and hug him. She gathered her wits, hardened her heart, and walked out the apartment door. She was intent on not coming back until Spencer had gotten rid of the substance that could ruined his life.
~.~.~.~.
Work after that occasion was...odd. Penelope and Spencer both steered clear of each other, and both looked like dejected puppies. Days turned into well over a week, and they had little to no contact with each other. It was noticed by all, but one seemed intent on fixing the problem.
"Babygirl." Derek Morgan walked into Penelope's office, without knocking, which had annoyed the blonde. But when she had seen the serious look on his face, she decided not to comment on it. The man crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her. "What's going on between you and Reid?"
Penelope huffed and turned away from him, back to her computers. "Nothing that is any of your business," she snipped. Suddenly her chair was whirled back around to face Derek again.
"Hey." His face was calm and understanding. She had always hated that face. It compelled you to spill your deepest and darkest secrets. "Talk to me." Great. He had just spoken the line that sealed the deal. She immediately deflated.
"You can't tell anyone," she told him sternly. "This stays between us."
Derek nodded his head immediately. "Alright," he agreed. "Spill."
She took in a deep breath, and then slowly released it. "I was at Reid's house cleaning..."
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.
"Hey, kid!" Derek called out to Spencer, who had just finished his last file...which was actually one of JJ's. He wondered if they really thought he didn't notice. "You need a ride?"
Spencer smiled fondly at the offering. His car had broken down, so he was forced to take the bus. The team had been angered when they found out that he was late because he had missed his bus, and had waited for the next instead of simply just calling for help. "I'm fine!" he assured Derek. "I won't miss the bus this time!"
"Yeah, right," Derek said sarcastically, "Because you're just a bucket of good luck." Spencer had frowned at that. Ouch. Low blow.
"Fine," he reluctantly agreed. He stood up and put his satchel over his shoulder, thus he missed the look that Penelope and Derek had shared as she walked past. "Just try to go the speed limit this time."
Derek rolled his eyes as he and Spencer walked in step toward the elevator. "Try not to act like my Grandma."
"Drive safely or I'll call your Grandma," Spencer threatened with a smirk. They got on the elevator, and Derek gave him a worried look as the doors closed tight. Penelope watched and released a gust of air. She really hoped everything went well.
~.~.~.~.~.
"Okay," Spencer sighed. It was pitch black out, and they were on a road that looked as though it hadn't been driven on in years. "I was going to be nice and not point anything out, because I thought you'd eventually realize it yourself, but we have been going in the total opposite direction for," He looked down at his watch, "Thirty minutes and twenty one seconds."
"I appreciate the fact that even at thirty minutes and twenty seconds you had faith in me," Derek joked. Spencer rolled his eyes, and looked at him in confusion. Derek hadn't seemed surprised by the news of his mistake. "So, say someone was to try to walk from here to the bus station, it would be a rather long walk, right?"
For a profiler, Spencer seemed totally oblivious to the insinuation in Derek's words, he focused only on the question. He merely scoffed. "Oh yeah! It would take forever! Especially since we're farther than average, because of your abnormal driving speed." He gave Derek a dry look, which the older man brushed off.
"Good," Derek declared. Spencer blinked in surprise as he pulled over to the side of the road.
"What are you doing?" Spencer asked him in surprise. His eyes widened comically when Derek locked the doors.
"...You're either going to rob me or kill me..." He said warily. Derek laughed.
"I don't need your money, nor do I need your blood staining the interior of my car." Derek smiled. But he quickly sobered up before he said his next words, "I just want to talk."
Spencer continued to look at him in confusion. "We couldn't have talked inside let's say...oh I don't know, my apartment? Your apartment? Anywhere besides the side of an abandoned road?" He looked around them warily. "Seriously, Morgan, this is how people die in a horror movie. You know, motor vehicle theft usually happens at night."
"Lucky for you, we're not in a horror movie. ...Also we're FBI agents currently inside the vehicle." Derek rolled his eyes. "Besides, I needed one place where I could be sure you couldn't run off." At his serious tone, Spencer looked back at him, read his face, and quickly had become stone faced, himself.
"Did Garcia talk to you?" He asked. He had obviously already known the answer.
"Yes," Derek admitted instantly. Spencer huffed in annoyance and immediately turned to look out the window. He shook his head. "Hey. To be fair I pulled it out of her, and you two have made quite a show of avoiding each other." Spencer still refused to look at him. "I'm not here to fight with you, Reid."
"Who takes someone to the middle of nowhere, where they can't escape, to have a nice civil discussion?!" Spencer asked him. His tone was defensive, his posture was still, and his hands were formed into fists. It had already gotten off to a bad start, and Derek knew to immediately make an attempt to diffuse the situation.
"Someone who knows you well enough to know that the second this was brought up you'd get like this." Derek gestured to Spencer's current position. Spencer opened and closed his mouth a few times, and then once again turned away from Derek. "I just want to talk, Reid. Nothing more. Penelope told me something I found pretty concerning."
"She wouldn't even listen," Spencer huffed out.
"It sounded to me like she heard enough," Derek replied calmly. Spencer's posture grew impossibly more stiff. "But I haven't. So if you want someone to explain it to, explain it to me."
"I don't see how I owe you anything," Spencer replied cooly. He almost immediately regretted his word choice, not even having the guts to turn around and face Derek after he said it. Images of all that Derek had done for him over the years had flooded his mind, and he felt himself grow guilty almost instantly. He also felt fear that he would upset Derek enough that he would leave him stranded in the middle of nowhere.
"Do you honestly believe that?" He heard Derek ask in the middle of his episode of self-loathing. He didn't even sound angry. His voice was still even and calm.
"No," Spencer admitted sadly. He felt anger at himself that he couldn't even be upset with Derek.
"Didn't think so," Derek replied. After a few more moments of silence, Derek spoke again. "Reid, if you don't start talking soon, I'm really going to get concerned. You can't just act like Penelope didn't see what she saw, and you can't act like it's not a big deal."
"It's not," Spencer replied automatically. His eyes were trained on the road outside the window.
"Really? Because from the sound of it, it sounds like you have a stash of drugs hidden under your bed." Derek's voice rose a tad in volume, and Spencer flinched.
"It's not a stash! It's one vial, and I haven't used it!" He turned to face Derek, but kept his eyes trained on the man's shirt. He didn't think he could handle to look at his eyes.
"Then why do you need something you're not going to use?" Derek asked.
"So that I know it's there!" Spencer cried out. He tried to reign in his emotions. There was no way he had any intention of having an emotional breakdown on the side of the road while trapped in a car with Derek Morgan.
"Why do you need it to be there?" Derek urged him on. His voice was still calm, even though it was a bit more elevated, which only seemed to urge Spencer on faster.
"Because-!" Spencer tried to continue the sentence, he really did. But he didn't know how. "Because it just needs to be!" He took in a shaky breath. "You don't get it, Morgan. I was tortured, I died, I...it made everything better." He heard Derek begin to talk, and instantly cut him off. "I know it didn't really make anything better, I'm not stupid. I'm a genius, in fact. I know it just made me feel better, and after awhile it didn't even do that. I just...I felt like I needed it. But...but I quit! I did! I haven't used in years, Morgan. Years." It was an...odd feeling for Spencer. To talk about his addiction. He rarely ever did it unless he was at his meetings. Even then, after the first few times he listened more than he spoke. But it was more of an unspoken truth between him and his friends.
"I believe you," Derek told him. Spencer then did look at his face, Derek hadn't looked mad, just serious. Concerned, even. "I'd be able to tell if you were using, Reid. Believe me on that. If you were to ever use again, God forbid, I would be the first person to know and believe me I would not let it slide."
Spencer smiled almost fondly. "I know you wouldn't."
"Then why do you risk having one of your greatest temptations hidden underneath your bed?" Derek asked him. His face showed his honest confusion at the geniuses' thought process.
Spencer hung his head. He felt shame overtake him. "You know, it's almost comforting," He told Derek sadly. He looked up to see Derek looking at him with even more disbelief. "To know one of your greatest struggles is right underneath your bed, to resist it every day. To be reminded of how far you've come..." Spencer's voice cracked on the last word, and he had fought with himself not to let himself cry. "But I'd be lying if I said I also didn't keep it under there just in case..."
"Reid, when was the last time you opened up that box?" Derek asked seriously. Spencer momentarily closed his eyes, he had been dreading the possibility of that question.
"When Emily...um...when we thought Emily died," He answered honestly. "I...I almost did after Maeve." He closed his eyes tightly, as the memory of the one girl he'd truly loved lying dead in a puddle of blood overtook him. "But...I knew she wouldn't want me to. I knew she wouldn't even want me to touch it. I almost did, just to get rid of it...but I couldn't." He looked up at Derek. "I didn't take it when I thought Emily had died, either. I just opened it up and looked at it for awhile, but I remembered how I treated her when I was on it, and I guess it just kind of felt like it'd be a slap in the face to her memory."
Derek nodded his head. "You made the right call," he replied.
"Yeah," Spencer agreed, but there was self-loathing in his voice, Derek could hear it. "But I almost didn't."
"Reid." Derek rolled his eyes in exasperation. "If we were all held responsible for the things we've almost done, just about the whole world would be sitting in a jail cell."
Spencer raised an eyebrow, but smiled a little. "You have very little faith in mankind, you know that, right?"
"I'm proud of it," Derek replied with a grin. He then grew serious again, and Spencer shifted uncomfortably. "So part of you feels you need a reminder, right? To wake up every morning and know you're resisting the one thing that could have ruined your whole life?" Spencer nodded his head slowly. "Hand me the coin in your left pocket."
Spencer's eyes widened comically and he stared at Derek in shock. "How did you-."
"Every time you get anxious on a case, or any time something bad happens, I always see you reach into your left pocket. Hand it over." Derek stuck out his hand, and felt the corner of his mouth kick up when Spencer obeyed. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the coin, and slowly, hesitantly, and fearfully had placed the coin in Derek's hand.
Derek rolled the coin around in his hand, he smiled at it as he took a good look at it. "Seven years." He whistled lowly. "Impressive."
"I-I'll be getting an eight year one soon enough," Spencer said with hesitant excitement. Almost as if he didn't know whether or not to show how proud he was. "I...um...it's been awhile!" He looked at Derek searchingly, and Derek knew exactly what he was looking for.
"That's amazing, kid." Spencer's entire face lit up at the words, and Derek couldn't help but smile back at him. "You see this," Derek held up the coin. "This is what you need to wake up and look at every. single. day," he said firmly. "This is what needs to be your reminder of how far you've come. This needs to be what reminds you to fight off your demons. You don't need the drugs, Reid. You don't actually need to hold onto everything you've fought off, you need the reminder of how you have fought them off. That's what this is." By the end of Derek's speech, Spencer tears that had fallen down his cheeks, dripping onto his khaki's. He sniffled and quickly wiped a hand over his face.
"I can't get rid of it," Spencer said sadly, "I need it."
"You see?" Derek asked him. He still held the coin up, so Spencer was forced to look at it when he looked at Derek. "That's the problem. You might not think you need to take the drugs anymore, but you still feel like you need them. You're still attached to them. You need to remove that part of it out of your life, kid. So that you can fully heal."
There had been utter silence inside that car. The only sound to be heard was the occasional sniffle from Spencer, as he silently cried into the palm of his hand. After awhile of the sad, occasional noises, Derek spoke again.
"I know it's been especially tough lately, Reid," He said sadly. Spencer hung his head, he knew what Derek had been referring to. "First with Maeve, then you were shot, and then with Blake..." Spencer whimpered. "I know you probably feel like you need it more than ever, but you don't." He grabbed one of Spencer's hands from his face, and pried it open. "You have this." He placed the coin in Spencer's hand, and closed it tightly around it. "Not only that, but you also have us. You don't need the drugs, Reid. You never did."
Spencer looked down at his closed hand, and then back at Derek's face. He was surprised to see his friend almost looked as if he was ready to cry, as well. It was rare, very rare. He brought the closed fist to his mouth and kissed it. "You're right," he admitted. He saw Derek's face wash over with relief. "But I can't do it alone."
Derek had placed a hand on the back of Spencer's neck and smiled at him. "You don't have to kid," he assured him. "You never did."
~.~.~.~.~.
That was how they ended up, that very evening, back at Spencer's apartment. Penelope had been phoned and had been waiting outside the apartment by the time they arrived there. Spencer had retrieved the wooden box from under his bed, and sucked in a breath as he opened it to look inside at its contents. He felt Derek's hand on his shoulder as he was guided into the bathroom, wooden box in hand. Penelope and Derek right by his side as he took the vial out from the box. He looked at it in wonder. Such a tiny vial, yet it could cause so much damage.
'I can do this.' He told himself mentally as he unscrewed the cap. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, opened them and looked in the mirror. He saw the reflection of two of his closest friends. Their faces gave him the strength he needed to hold the vial above the sink, and dump out the contents.
He hadn't needed the vial anymore. He had all the reminder, and all the love he could possibly ever need...and he would never throw that away.