Trapped in a moment by Lexical
Rating: M
Summary: Reid is taken hostage by an UNSUB an released an hour later. But will he ever be the same?
Warning: This fic contains NON CON (not graphic)- don't read if this will disturb you. It also contains language some readers may find inappropriate.
Author's note: my first fan fic piece ever, please be gentle. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
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Hotch was behind him, gun out, splat jacket on. Reid entered the room. The kid was on the bed, tied down with rope, apparently unconscious. Their UNSUB, Martin Underwood, was standing over the kid with a shotgun pressing against the kid's temple.
"One more step and this kid's brains are all over the wall!"
"It's over, Underwood! Drop your weapon!" That was Hotch.
"You come any closer and this kid is going to have a closed casket funeral! Get the fuck out!"
"Not going to happen. Let the boy go." How Hotch could sound so calm in situations like these always amazed Reid. Which is why he usually let Hotch do the talking. Usually... But Underwood's finger was tightening on the trigger. Reid was in front of Hotch, blocking his shot. He lowered his gun.
"Don't hurt the boy, okay? We can talk about this."
Seeing that Reid had lowered his gun, Underwood swung the shotgun in Reid's direction.
"You. Come here." Reid edged forward slowly, heart beginning to race. Underwood was shouting orders at Hotch, who was yelling back. Everything went too quickly then. There was a shot and Hotch dove for cover.
Reid blinked, the sound of the blast momentarily deafening him. The door was heaved shut by Underwood and locked before Reid could recover. Underwood kept Reid in his sight, and ordered him into the room, away from the door, away from safety.
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Aaron Hotchner paced as the police rattled off threats to Underwood over a megaphone. Nothing. Reid had been in there an hour and then… shots. Gunshots. Hotch was up and running, through the door. Reid!…
Reid was still holding the shotgun. His face was speckled with blood. Hotch gazed down. Underwood's reign of terror was over. Another agent was barking for an ambulance as Hotch put an arm around Reid's shoulders and steered him outside, away from the carnage, into the sun.
Reid sat under a tree and just stared.
"You had to do it Reid. He would have killed you."
"Yeah." Reid continued to gaze out at the grass, his eyes glassy, the pupils dilated. Hotch watched him for a moment before putting a hand on his arm.
"You're in shock. Come on. Let's get you looked over by a medic-"
"NO!" Reid shouted, eyes going wide. Hotch held up his hands in a soothing gesture, took a step toward the distraught young man. Reid was already calming down. "I mean… no. It's okay. It's just a bruise." He tilted his face so Hotch could see the shiner starting to darken under his eye.
"You sure you're okay?" Hotch asked, brows furrowing. He put a hand on Reid's arm and Reid recoiled. Hotch pulled back and sat near the younger man, just watching.
"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine. I… I just want to go home."
"Okay. At least let me give you a drive. You can fill out your report tomorrow and…"
Reid was just nodding, but not really listening. Hotch knew that much. "Let's get you home Spencer."
They drove in silence, Reid staring out the passenger seat window, mouth set in a grim line. Hotch pulled into the parking lot, left the engine idling.
"The kid's going to be okay, Reid. You saved his life."
Reid nodded and tried to smile, but he was just going through the motions. That much was clear.
"Come on, Let's get you upstairs." Hotch reached over to open Reid's door, not missing the way Reid shrank back from the movement. Reid offered a small, apologetic smile.
"Just a bit… jumpy. That's all."
"That's understandable. C'mon."
Hotch walked behind Reid, analyzing the younger man. Reid walked stiffly, arms motionless at his side. Head down. They took the elevator up and Hotch's concern turned to worry. Spencer Reid was very pale, and he seemed to be in pain.
Reid unlocked the front door, his body shaking, and walked into his apartment. He surveyed the surroundings as if he had never seen them before, ran a shaking hand over his face. Hotch said something to him, and he missed it.
"Reid?" Hotch edged his voice with steel. He was worried now, really worried. Reid was white now, his face dotted in perspiration.
"Just a headache." Reid mumbled, sitting down on his couch. He winced and shut his eyes at the movement.
"Reid… come on. We're going to the hospital."
"I'm fine, Hotch."
"I'm your superior, I'll make that decision"
Reid was breathing through his mouth, hands laced over his stomach. "I- I just want to lie down for a while, I'll be fine…"
"You can come with me, or I can call for an ambulance." Hotch said simply. He would not debate this any longer.
"I said I was fine!" Reid choked out. Hotch closed his eyes, tried to calm his own growing fear. Reid's eyes were full of tears, his face pale, hands shaking.
"Reid…" Hotch lowered his voice. There was no easy way to ask this. "Reid, did Underwood hurt you?"
Reid stared at Hotch for a moment, blinked. Tried to smile. The smile faltered and Reid took a deep breath. Let it out. Another. His eyes looked wild. Aaron Hotchner knew he was walking on very thin ice.
"Please, I just want to go lie down-" Reid got up with visible effort and started towards his bedroom. Hotch watched him, brows furrowing. He glanced down at the sofa, where Reid had been sitting and touched the dark material. His fingers came back sticky. Red.
"Reid!" His own heart was beating rapidly now. Now was not the time to break down. He was at Reid instantly, hands strong on his shoulder. Reid let out a small, strangled scream and tried to pull away. Hotch held him, not letting the younger man wriggle away.
"Please, Hotch. Please, don't make me."
Aaron Hotchner had never felt as much empathy for Spencer Reid as he did in that moment, but he also knew Reid would endanger himself to keep this secret.
"I'll go with you. You won't be alone."
"Please, Hotch. Please." Reid was crying now, softly, head tucked down in shame. Hotch sighed but didn't let the younger man go. Reid was shaking, eyes wild and crazed like a caught animal, breathing fast and shallow. Panicking.
"Come on, Reid. Come on." He half expected Reid to fight, but instead the younger man sagged against the wall. He slid rather gracefully to the ground and hid his head in his hands. Hotch knew the younger man was trying to control himself, was trying not to cry. Sob. His breathing sounded strangled and tight, on the verge of breaking.
"Spencer… come on." He knelt down in front of his agent, tried to see his face. Reid finally looked at him, his eyes heavy lidded, his face whiter than fear alone.
"Reid? Spencer? Come on, talk to me." Reid was struggling to keep his eyes open, his breathing fast and shallow.
"I don't feel that well." Reid slurred, eyes fluttering shut. Hotch picked up his wrist, felt for a pulse. Fast, thready. Not good. Neither, of course, was the red staining the carpet on which Reid sat, semi-conscious. Aaron Hotchner pulled out his cell and dialed for an ambulance.
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Reid roused slightly when the paramedics arrived, eyes flickering open, widening with fear. Hotch stayed close to the younger agent, held his hand as he was lifted onto the gurney and an IV was started. Paramedics were asking him questions he didn't want to answer so he simply shut his eyes and tuned them out, but he could hear Hotch speaking in low, clipped tones, informing the medics that he would be riding with Dr. Reid. His tone of voice was steely and Reid knew they wouldn't argue. Not with Hotch. If he wasn't so scared and ashamed, he might have smiled.
The drive was fast and they didn't blast the sirens. Reid could hear Hotch on his cell, phoning the other agents, and the sense of shame began to grow. He didn't want anyone to know. No one. Too late for that
He felt his gurney being lifted and left his eyes closed. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want people looking at him, seeing him, touching him. The gurney was stabilized on the ground and wheeled into the emergency room, down what felt like a hall, into an exam room. Reid kept his eyes tightly closed. It was magical thinking, he reflected sullenly- hoping that if he couldn't see them, they couldn't see him. Still, it felt right. So he did it.
He felt himself being lifted onto a bed, and people were shouting. He felt a hand wrap around his free hand- the other one had an IV in it- and creaked his eyes open. Hotch.
Doctors and medical professionals were calling back and forth, saying his name, saying the names of horrible things. Embarassing and shameful things. Spencer Reid had never felt so dirty and used in his entire life as he did at that moment. Despite his pain, Reid felt his cheeks turn hot. He squeezed his eyes shut, blinking out angry, hot tears. Hotch's grip got stronger.
He almost came right off the bed when the first set of hands touched him. Hotch was right by him, saying he'd be all right. Saying it would be over soon. It hurt and fingers… he screamed. He felt his awareness dimming, everything turning black. He gave into it, wishing that he would never have to awaken. Never have to see the look of pity in Hotch's eyes that he knew would be there.
He thought he was unconscious, but he could still feel hands on him, talking. Someone said "Let's turn him." And Reid tried to talk. "No. Please. Don't." But he was only semi-conscious and the hands were stronger. He felt his pants being cut off, hands on his legs. He tried to kick, fear and shame and a sense of being in a dream stronger than the realization that he was in a hospital, that this was supposed to be helpful.
"Reid, calm down." Hotch again, his voice sounding tight, clipped. Aaron Hotchner rarely sounded upset, even when he was. Now, right now, even only half-aware, Reid knew he was upset.
"Please don't let them touch me, Hotch. Please."
"It'll be okay, Reid. Can you feel my hand?"
Reid slit his eyes open. Hotch's face was right there, staring at him. Reid nodded.
Hotch smiled gently. "Okay. You just focus on that, okay? Just talk to me."
Hands. Fingers. He felt something cold push into him and he screamed and jerked. The doctors were talking fast- bleeding. Severe bleeding. Someone yelled something, but Reid couldn't make it out. He was so tired.
"Reid. Come on, Spencer, keep talking to me." Hotch's voice was soft, softer than he'd ever heard it.
He was turned over, more hands. Someone said the words "rape kit". Reid squeezed his eyes shut. It was suddenly hard to breathe. The air felt oxygenless. His hands felt numb, far away. Reid didn't see the syringe that was suddenly plunged into his IV line, didn't know he was being sedated. Hotch's face went blurry. Hotch was saying something, but Reid couldn't hear anymore, and then everything went gray.
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Reid woke up in pain. He was lying in a hospital bed. An oximeter was attached to one of his fingers, recording his pulse and oxygen level. He groaned and opened his eyes. Morgan was sitting in a chair near his bed, reading a magazine. Morgan turned the magazine upside down and frowned. Reid groaned and Morgan straightened up, put the magazine down.
"Reid! How you doing man?"
Reid smacked his lips, tried to speak, but his mouth was dry. Morgan grabbed the water pitcher and a glass and filled it, handed it to Reid. Reid nodded and acknowledgement and drank the water. Morgan was watching him, eyebrows knitted in concern.
"You gave us a scare, Reid."
Reid tried to think. Had he been shot? What? Oh. Oh… fuck.
"Does everybody know?" His voice was soft, almost inaudible. Morgan nodded, expression pinched.
"You didn't do anything wrong, Reid. You were injured in duty. That's all. That's all anybody thinks of it."
"If that were true," Reid's voice was high, pinched "You wouldn't have had to say that."
Morgan shifted uncomfortably, finally nodded. Reid glanced around the room, saw Hotch in the hall, watching him. Reid closed his eyes and exhaled, knew Hotch would come in now that he was awake. He heard the door click open, heard Morgan greet the senior agent.
"Can I have a moment?" Hotch said. Reid assumed Morgan consented because the door clicked shut.
He kept his eyes closed. He couldn't do this. He could hear Hotch pull a chair out, sit down.
"Reid, I know you're awake." Hotch sounded… like Hotch. There was no pity in his voice, no smothering worry. Reid opened his eyes.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"You could have bled to death, Spencer." Hotch said sharply, eyes never leaving Reid's. Reid finally looked away. What could he say to that?
"Does everyone know?" He already knew the answer.
"They know you were hurt attempting to save that kid's life."
"You didn't have to tell them." Reid breathed, miserable. He was close to tears. No… he would not cry. He wouldn't. Hotch just stared at him, expression unreadable.
"When can I go home?" Reid said after a moment. Somehow, the silence was worse. It irked and niggled at him.
"They want to keep you overnight for observation." Hotch said simply. Reid nodded, thought about that. Lying in this bed like an invalid, being watched, those looks of pity. He wanted to get up, shower, have half a dozen coffees and lock himself in his apartment with a pile of books.
"I feel okay. I want to go home."
"You just had surgery. That's not going to happen."
Surgery? Reid stared at Hotch. He wasn't bluffing. He thought about what had happened, his behavior. What would it be like when he went back to the BAU? How would they treat him?
"So. What's going to happen now?" Flat voice. Analytical Reid now.
Two could play that game. "What do you think is going to happen, Spencer?"
"I don't know. I don't want to talk to anyone, Hotch."
Hotch didn't say anything to that, just looked at Reid. Watched him. Analyzing, thinking. Profiling.
"You'll come back to work," Hotch stated simply, in the same clinical tone he used whenever he was dealing with something unpleasant but not immediately overwhelmed. "You'll do your job. You'll recover."
Reid nodded at this. It was good Hotch was speaking like that, it made it easier. Reid didn't think he could stand overt compassion right now. Reid let his eyes drift closed again. He heard Hotch shift in his chair.
"I'm glad you're okay, Reid." Hotch said after a moment. "And if you ever endanger your life like that again, I'll personally see to it that you spend the rest of your career doing desk work."
Reid looked at Hotch, stunned. Hotch was serious. His eyes were concerned, but also angry.
"I…how could I tell you?" Hotch watched the younger man intently. Tried to imagine the degree of shame that would compel Reid to hide life threatening injuries.
He couldn't.
Reid was looking at the ceiling, at the window, anywhere but Hotch's face. Hotch sighed, moved to get up. He was at the door when Reid spoke again.
"Psych Eval?" Reid asked simply, sounding defeated.
"Get some sleep, Reid." Hotch replied softly. He stepped out before Reid could object.
"He okay?" Morgan said, walking up to Hotch, sipping instant coffee.
Hotch stared at Morgan, expression steely. It was enough of an answer.
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Reid woke up with a start, heart racing.
"Reid!"
He lay back, trying to breathe. It was hard to breathe. Everything hurt.
"Hey, Reid…" It was Garcia. Reid glanced at his arm out of habit, but his watch was removed. The lights were dimmed.
"What are you doing here?" Reid snapped, embarrassed. Garcia ignored the tone of voice, handed him a coffee. Reid took it gratefully.
"It's cold, but black. Lots of sugar."
"Thanks." He took a sip, then another. Coffee had never tasted so good.
"How you doing, Partner?" Garcia said softly, moving her chair closer to Reid's bed.
"Fine. Thanks for the coffee."
"We all were really worried about you." Garcia said, voice cracking.
"What time is it?" Reid said in response, avoiding Garcia's gaze.
"After two. You were out like a light." Reid didn't like this. His hands were shaking, and he had the urge to get up, move, just move.
He sat up, glad to see the IV had been removed. "I want to go home."
"Um, Reid… I think you have to stay the night… hey!"
Reid was out of bed, swaying slightly. Wincing.
"Reid, I think you should get back in bed."
It was hard to breathe. The room was too small. He had to get away.
"Or not." Garcia amended, watching her colleague. Her friend. His face was pale, his hands shaking. She knew what this was, knew what a developing panic attack looked like.
"Reid, get back in bed." The door had opened. Hotch. Hotch was there, and Reid gasped. The air was too stale, not enough oxygen. Hotch crossed over to the younger man, put a hand on Reid's arm. Reid jerked away.
"I don't want to get back in bed!" He was breathing hard, eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of anxiety. He felt like he was dying. He had to get away.
"Reid, calm down." How could Hotch sound like that? So… so incredibly calm, so stable. Reid jerked away from Hotch, stumbled toward the door. Garcia glanced at Hotchner, uneasy. He shook his head, followed Reid out into the hall.
Reid stumbled along, wheezing. A nurse walked by, glanced at Hotch. Hotch shook his head. Don't interfere.
"Reid, come on, let's go sit down."
"I don't want to sit down!"
He didn't want to hear Hotch, didn't want to deal with this. Couldn't deal with this. He wanted to go home, get a shower. Maybe get drunk. Yes, that sounded good. But move... he had to move. Couldn't stop now, not with the adrenaline pumping through him, not with the fear so huge and overpowering.
Reid began to walk faster, ghosted by Hotch, by Garcia. The hall looked funny, strange, distorted.
"Where are my clothes?" Reid shouted at no one in particular.
Doctors were coming now. Reid turned back, breathing fast. Wheezing. Then he was running, running. Someone shouted behind him. He ignored it, kept running, bare feet slapping against linoleum. A security guard was walking down the hall from the opposite direction, Hotch and Garcia and a doctor behind him. Trapped. Trapped.
A bathroom. He saw the sign, pushed the door open, ducked in. There was no lock on the door, nothing. Reid stumbled into a stall, closed it, pushed the lock down. The door burst open.
"Reid." It was Hotchner, but there were other people. Reid could hear them, breathing, behind the other side of the door. Ready. Ready to pounce on him. Get him.
Reid edged back into the stall, back against the wall.
"Reid, come out." Hotch, voice calm and sure, like it always was. Like he always was- so calm, so self assured. Reid shut his eyes angrily, suddenly furious. Furious at this situation, at the flimsy hospital gown, the way his IV line left bruising on his skinny arm. He had to calm down. Had to think. There were too many people, too many people, all crowding him.
There were too many people in here. He could hear them, breathing. He wanted them to go away, leave him alone. They were smothering him. He couldn't breathe.
"Reid, come out." Hotch said again.
"I want to go home, Hotch!" Reid called back, voice tight and strangled.
"Reid, they'll break the door down…" Reid pictured that, the hands, the bodies surging against him. Holding him down. He clicked the door open, saw Garcia shut her eyes in relief. The security guard was blocking the exit, there was a doctor with a syringe. Reid glanced at it like most people would stare at a poisonous snake. Reid backed away from them, back towards the sink.
"Please… just leave me alone. I'm fine. Please. I haven't done anything wrong." He was panting, eyes wide.
"Reid, there are two ways you can do this," Hotch said tightly, eyes hard and determined.
"Hotch, please… I'll be fine. I just want to go for a walk. I need to get some air."
The security guard moved forward, but Hotch was faster. He stepped in, blocking the guard, took Reid by the arm.
"Come on. You're okay. Come on."
Out of the bathroom. A few doctors looked up. Hotch's grip was steel on his arm. His breathing was coming fast and ragged now, exhausted. He could feel the doctor behind him, the guard… like he was a criminal. A prisoner. Hotch's grip was tight, angry on his arm. Reid broke then, face crumpling. He gasped and his face changed, and he was sobbing then, crying. He hated himself for it, for showing weakness but at that moment it was impossible to stop.
Hotchner steered him back into his room, back to bed. Reid gasped sobs, fell into bed. It didn't matter, anyway. He'd get out tomorrow, be alone tomorrow. Reid clung to this thought, his shame and self hatred throbbing in time with his pulse. He'd get away and be alone and it would be fine. He'd lock himself in his house and ignore their phone calls and there wouldn't be anything they could do because he'd be discharged, then, and on leave, and they'd just have to deal with it.
A doctor came in, handed him a little paper cup with pills inside, a little cup of water. Reid stared at it, knew he didn't have a choice. Ativan. 2 mgs. He dry swallowed the pills, drank the water. Lay down on his bed. Face turned to Hotch. He didn't want to look at him, see him.
"Go away Hotch."
"Reid, you must have known how that would end…"
"Please leave, Hotchner." Aaron Hotchner didn't have to be told twice. Reid heard the door click shut. He closed his eyes, balled one hand into a fist. Bit it. Bit until the pain throbbed louder than the shame and the misery, till the drugs started to work, dulling everything, making everything matter less.
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That's all I have for right now, guys. Please rate and review, and let me know if you want this to continue. :Like I said, it's my first fic.:)