Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds
A/N: I was talking to someone about Criminal Minds and this story crept into my brain. No episode tags.
It's been three years since he stopped using Dilaudid, and he's been lucky. He hasn't slipped up, hasn't had another dose and he's shown no permanent damage from the original addiction.
It's the cravings that get him, once, maybe twice a month, more if it's been a bad month. His muscles will twitch, his heart palpitates, a cold sheen of sweat will form seconds before the
need
attacks him like a living thing. He knows that it is simply his brain chemistry becoming unbalanced and must correct itself, but it's hard to remember when all he can feel is the all consuming need.
Sometimes, he thinks it's better to be alone in these moments. Better for no one to see him curled in a ball on the floor moaning. Better for no one to hear him retch. Better to remember why he won't go back.
Sometimes he feels it's better to be with the team, better to be cared for. The women mother him when it happens. He thinks it should be ridiculous; how Emily puts a damp cloth on his forehead or J.J. holds his hand, but it isn't. He now can accurately define comfort and he finds that he likes it. Better still, he likes Morgan's attempts to share pop culture he will never understand, (Like Twilight, but Morgan doesn't get that either, so that's ok.) Rossi will play chess with him and Hotch will sit nearby, doing paperwork and standing guard during the worst of it.
Maybe, secretly, he prefers having his team to help him face it.