Reid sat fingering the blade, his sleeve rolled up. He was sitting in a bathroom stall at the BAU, his entire body tense with expectation.
He looked down at his forearm. It was a patchwork of old, faded scars and newer, fresher cuts, all layered over one another.
Not too deep, he told himself, I just need a couple shallow ones, enough to distract myself, to focus until the day ends.
His day really hadn't been that bad. It was just paper work from their last case. And even that wasn't too awful. It was a kidnapping, no one had even died.
But even so, he was feeling … well he didn't know what he was feeling. He never quite knew what he was feeling. And that was the problem.
When he got angry or sad or stressed, anything but happy - a feeling that he hadn't experienced in a very long time- he didn't know how to react. His brain didn't know what to do. So it detached itself. Reid stopped feeling - he went numb. But numb didn't work.
With a sigh, he brought the razor blade down on his wrist and sliced. His mind cleared the fog lifted. He could see the world again. It was like putting on glasses - everything came back to life. He made a couple more for good measure. Then he bandaged them up and rolled down his sleeve - so no one would see. No one could see - not in his line of work.
Hotch watched from his desk as the young agent exited the bullpen. His mind seemed empty - his face was blank and his entire body seemed to sag with the weight of the world. Hotch knew he shouldn't be analyzing Reid - that was the rule - don't profile the team.
But something was off with him. He was quieter, he slept more, and he refused to get drinks with everyone else. In fact, Hotch couldn't remember the last time he had heard Reid ramble on about some statistic that only kinda related to the case.
A couple of minutes later, Reid walked back into the room, but this time he was lighter, he even had a slight smile on his face.
That's weird. He looks alive again. How is that possible?
Hotch knew it was a while ago, but he wondered if Reid was suffering a relapse or some delayed PTSD in connection with being tortured. And if that was the case, he had to pull him out of the field. It would just endanger the rest of the team if Reid wasn't focused.
Hotch walked out of his office, "Reid! Can you come here for a moment please?"
Reid glanced up at Hotch in surprise, but quickly scurried up to his office.
"Close the door and have a seat."
Reid did as he was asked and sat down, "Did I do something wrong? I know JJ needs the paperwork, but it is almost done I swear."
Hotch shook his head. "No Reid your performance has been fine. But if you don't mind me asking how are you doing?"
Reid stared at the man sitting across from him - a man he saw as a father. He tensed up for a second and then put on his best smile, "I'm good Hotch. Never been better."
Damn I shouldn't have added the last part - such an obvious lie.
Reid could see the doubt in Hotch's eyes. But he didn't push it. "Okay. You just seemed a little out of it lately. I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm fine Hotch." Reid said quickly with an almost violent edge to his voice as he was pushing himself out of the chair.
"Reid." Hotch said surprised at his tone. He grabbed his arm. Reid was not fine. Hotch had never heard him talk to a superior like that.
Reid winced and said, "Hotch let go of my fucking arm. You can't just go around grabbing agents like that."
Out of shock more than anything Hotch let go.
Fuck. Was Reid's first thought. Fuck he had to have noticed. Why did I have to lose it like that. I can't say stuff like that. Especially to Hotch. I fuck everything up. I should just go home. Yeah. I can go home.
He quickly walked to his desk and grabbed his satchel.
"Reid what's up man. Why you leaving now? I mean I know we can technically go home at 6, but you never leave on time man." Morgan asked, concern dripping from his voice. A venom Reid detested. He wasn't weak.
"I don't feel especially well." Not a lie.
"Okay kid. Call me if you need anything." Not a chance. Not even if you did care.
Reid sat on the floor of his bathroom, shirt off, holding a knife, sharp and shiny.
The moment when Hotch grabbed his arm kept replaying in his head.
It is so loud. My head never shuts up. It is never quiet. It is just so loud. It actually hurts. Not like a headache, but I can feel my head thinking. The thoughts pulsing against my skull. Why won't it stop? Why won't it just stop? I need to make it stop. There is only one way to make it stop.
Reid took the knife and pressed in on his chest. The pain. It was like drugs, but better. His brain stopped thinking. He forgot everything. And for a little there was only the pain.
After about three minutes of sitting there, getting high off the pain Reid grabbed the bandages. He kept his first aid kit well stocked. If you had a habit like his, you had too.
But when Reid looked at the wound, he was surprised. It was deep. Way deeper than it should have been. The blood was, well everywhere. He immediately grabbed a towel and applied pressure in an effort to stop the bleeding. It wasn't working.
Shit.
His head started to spin. The edges of his vision went black.
After Reid stormed out of the BAU, Hotch went about his job normally, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was very much not right with the young agent. He had never seen Reid that angry or well scared. Reid had looked terrified as he left.
Hotch called Reid's phone, wanting to apologize or see if he could get him to open up or at least explain why he wasn't acting like Reid, but it went to voicemail. It went straight to voicemail 7 times.
The pit in Hotch's stomach continued to grow. Finally he went over to Reid's apartment. To see if he could talk to him face-to-face, but when he got there his apartment was silent. No one was answering the door. He was about to leave when he heard a crash. It kind of sounded like a head hitting something.
"Reid! Open up! It's Hotch. Are you okay? Is everything okay?"
Another crash.
Panicked, Hotch yelled, "Damn it Reid. I'm coming in." And he kicked open the door. Usually something left up to Morgan, but it worked.
The apartment was dark, save for a light coming out from under the bathroom door.
Hotch turned the handle, and what he saw when he opened it made him want to vomit and cry at the same time. He had see his fair share of gruesome crime scenes with so much blood and carnage that it would scar most people for life, but this was the only scene that Hotch would remember in vivid detail.
Reid was slumped against his tub, blood pouring out of a cut above his heart and pooling beneath him. There was so much blood. And then there was the mix of fresh cuts and old scars that covered both his arms and his stomach.
He knelt down next to Reid and gently shook him, "Reid wake up. Please. Come on. Open your eyes." Hotch knew that if Reid didn't wake up and if he couldn't stop the bleeding he would have to call an ambulance.
He also knew that Reid would hate him for it. He had said so many times that he didn't want to end up like his mother. That he was afraid of being institutionalized. And until now Hotch had no idea how easily it could happen.
"Hotch." a croaky and distant voice said.
Reid opened his eyes.
"Hotch. What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here? Go home. Forget what you see" Fuck he would have yelled if he had the strength. But he didn't have the strength. He just felt like lying down and going to sleep. And then never waking up.
"OH thank god Reid. I'm so mad at you right now, but we need to get the bleeding to stop okay."
Reid sloppily nodded.
Hotch grabbed the towel off the counter and pressed it to the wound. The expanding ring of blood on the white cloth gradually slowed and Hotch breathed a sigh of relief.
Reid with his consciousness regained, began to understand the situation.
"Oh fuck Hotch. I'm so sorry. You weren't supposed to see this. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. I didn't. Oh shit Hotch. I fucked up."
"No. Reid. Its my fault. I shouldn't have pushed you. I should have noticed something wasn't right. We can get you help. We can get you through this."