Title: "why"
Prompt: 'why"
Word Count: 1161
Characters: Reid, Hotch
Pairing: none
Rating: T
Genre: angst, family
Summary: Hotch question's his youngest agent's motives.
A/N: Thanks again to light within the shadows for the prompt. The focus of this story is not only on the prompt, but also some personal demons of my own. So, pray excuse whilst I twist the characters for my own needs.
"Why"
Hotchner sighed sadly. The door had been shut tight, and the blinds snugly blocking sight from outside the office, but he still instinctively wanted to reach out and cover the harsh red lines that marred the pale skin of his youngest agent. From the lacerations, it looked like Reid had wrestled a porcupine, or had an argument with a lawn mower. But he knew that no wild animal or machine had caused these marks, however much he wanted to believe that they had. He knew what caused them, but for the first time, the profiler had encountered behavior that he truly did not understand. He had seen it before, done the research, but the emotions and motivations were beyond his grasp.
He looked up from assessing the damage, to see if it reflected in Reid's eyes. But Spencer gazed at the scars, sick hunger and longing filled the optical organs. No pain was revealed in the orbs that had seen so much of it for a lifetime. Hotch prepared himself to ask, ready for any adverse effects the questioning might have.
"Spencer, if I might ask…" he drew in a sharp breath, leaning back and running a shaky hand through his hair. He gave a short laugh, mirthless and hurt. "I'm a little out of my league here so…" he stopped, tilted his head. "Why?"
Reid shifted his gaze to the team leader's face, and the emotions shifted on his face. Confusion and fear were prominent, with traces of anger. "I can't explain it Hotch. Even for a virtual mind reader, you wouldn't understand."
"Help me then. I'm good at my job Reid, but I don't know everything." He caught and held eye contact, as if he really could look right through the windows to the tortured soul within.
Reid bit his lower lip, shifting in the chair. It reminded Hotch of his own childhood, how he would change the position of his body whether standing or sitting, because in his mind if he could move enough, he could dodge the questions that got thrown at him.
"I guess… there's so many different reasons." He began hesitantly, and Hotch nodded encouragingly. He knew that once Reid got started, each subsequent sentence would get easier. All the hidden pain would slowly come out, and the pressure would ease.
Hotch could almost see the change as Reid switched to his frame of mind where he could channel statistics and all the information stored in his brain. "All the different reasons that they've cataloged from various people. I have more than one reason myself… it's sort of complicated."
The older man made a point of looking at the clock. "We've got time."
Reid sighed quietly, though he already knew that he could no longer avoid the inevitable. He could always hope for just one more night, but the time had come. He found his small measure of courage and began again. "It's not always the same, why I need it. Sometimes the emotion builds up and I feel like it's going to rip me apart. My chest gets constricted, and it's really hard to breath." He paused to push his palm against his heart, as if to stop it beating out of control. "And when I cut, it's instantaneous, the relief. I mean like," he stopped to give a half smile, the corner of his lip twitching up in amazement, "it's like I can actually feel the pressure easing. It's so easy, and I'm not intoxicated or anything. There aren't any adverse side effects on my organs… just cuts that can be cleaned, and there's a low risk of infection if they're cleaned right away. And all that's left after are scars." Hotch frowned at his seemingly unconscious rationalizations. He sounded like an addict, which was a label he was reluctant to pin on the genius.
"What are the other reasons?" he gently prodded.
"Well… everything that I've been through… it's like I shouldn't feel the way I do, so hurt. Like it wasn't enough to justify it. But it's weird, 'cuz at the same time the pain isn't real enough. So I guess it validates it in more ways than one. Battle scars…" he whispered the last two words, softly tracing the tracks.
"Is that all?" Hotch asked.
Reid half shrugged, moving again in the chair. "Sometimes I just want to see myself bleed." He mumbled, barely audible. "I don't know why. I don't know what's wrong with me." Hotch opened his mouth to interrupt, but Reid barreled on. "The other stuff makes sense, you know? My SI is for harm and mutilation, pain and marks, but the blood? I don't know how I justify that. All I can think of is that I'm as bad as the UnSubs I'm supposed to help put away." He pressed his lips together, and Hotch could see that his eyes were very bright.
Moving, trying not to betray the stiffness of his joints from sitting so still, like one would when trying not to frighten an injured animal. Hotch reached forward and grabbed Reid's wrists from under, resting the backs of his own hands on the table. Reid looked startled, but also relieved. Hotch supposed that it must be exhausting spending all your time fighting yourself; it would be a relief to know that some one was fighting you too.
"Listen to me Reid. You are not an UnSub. You are trying to stay alive, and you're trying not to hurt others. I don't condone your methods, but I sort of understand the feelings behind them." Reid frowned slightly at the "sort of", but Hotch added "This is only the beginning Reid. We've really only scratched the surface. You've done the research, right?" Reid nodded, but Hotch already knew from his terminology before; words like harm, mutilation and SI. "So you know that this is a long process, just like any other addiction. But you don't have to do it alone." He tilted his head forward to stare harder across the desk. "Do you understand that part?" Reid slowly nodded.
"Yeah, I guess." He spoke softly, eyes flickering down briefly to his hands, before meeting his leader's eyes once more.
Hotch nodded. "I'm glad you told me Reid." He quietly praised him. "I can't imagine what that must have cost you." He squeezed his wrists slightly, reassuringly. "We'll figure this out." Reid nodded, body relaxing now that the burden was partially lifted.
But only one person knew. The secret would grow again, choking him till he let it out to someone else. But next time it would be easier. He would perfect his speech of course, maybe throw in some statistics to put him back on more familiar ground. But the main thing would be that he wouldn't have to do it alone. He could, but he didn't have to.
With that knowledge, it would be a while before the urge to cut overcame him again.
~Fin.
I don't really like how I ended this… but the rest of it is pretty good, albeit incomplete. I will probably come back to this later to edit it.