Holding Tight
Notes:
I do not claim the series or it's content
"I'm terribly sorry Spencer…"
The words echoed in his head as he tried to process what he had heard. The cell phone he was holding to his ear inched away, his arm slacking. His eyes quivered a small distance back and forth as he only saw the thoughts running through his mind. He was trying to catch up to all the information he received, none he wanted to hear, and all in a matter of seconds.
There had been an accident. That's how these things always happened. That was always the excuse, a way for someone to avoid complicated details. There was always someone, somewhere that would cause or prompt such events. It seemed for some reason calling it an accident should make it easier to swallow, but it didn't. It still got stuck in his throat, still choked him, and upset his stomach.
He could feel his heart sinking, the deep and quivering breath matching the hard thrumming of his chest. There was a moment he didn't inhale, but once he had, the world continued to move around him. The muffled voices of conversations from behind and the small chatter ahead all came to life in seconds.
He could hear Rossi and Prentiss making jabbing remarks about something that seemed irrelevant. "Reid, meeting." He heard Hotch as he quickly passed him, the now still standing genius in the hall no one noticed. Aaron hustled forward at a speed that seemed impossible for Spencer. He hadn't even looked back as he entered the room ahead, at least, not until he followed the quizzical eyes of the others out the door.
"Reid?"
Why did everything suddenly sound like it was vibrating in baritone? His mouth opened to respond, but he was only able to make a syllable before he realized he hadn't meant to say anything at all. He stared back at the pair of eyes all conveniently focused on him. He could tell some were curious as to why he was standing, like a fool, in the entrance. He couldn't answer them even when the droning of his phone was telling him to hang up.
His attention shifted to the open cell, his actions feeling as if in slow motion. He brought his free, shaking hand up, and closed the flip phone with all his strength. He cradled the device in his hands for a second before simply holding it with one. He looked from the phone to the group looking expectantly back at him.
"I…"
"Its… my…"
"…"
Mother...
She's gone.
It was as if trying to tell the team brought reality crashing through. He hadn't believed it at first, being so sudden and so unexpected. His mother was gone. The one he sent away when he was younger and the one he rarely went to visit. The letters he wrote to her, he knew they were never enough, they weren't the same as a warm hug. Handwriting couldn't kiss her on the top of the head and express how much she meant to him, how much he really did love her. Did she know he loved her? Oh god, he hoped she did. There wasn't a day that went by without the tender thoughts of his respective parent.
Just the two of them against the world.
That's how it should have been.
It's how it should have stayed.
He was alone now.
There would be no one to visit on the holidays, on Christmas when he'd go stay in the homey hospital and pretend it was just like home. No one would receive the stories he had to tell or concerns he might have in his scribbled writing. There would be no one to call and check on at the end of his day. No one would love him as much as she had or tell him that he was perfection when he didn't believe it himself. There would be no one to give him courage when his job showed all the ugly in the world, because she would be gone.
She wouldn't be there anymore.
A strangled whine escaped him. It was the only warning he gave before turning on his heel and storming in the opposite direction. It had sounded awful to his own ears as he tried to control uneven breathing. The action seemed in the nick of time as he turned his back, his eyes were filling with burning, stinging, tears.
He had to find somewhere no one could see him or hear him. He needed to breathe, to be alone and pull himself together. He couldn't cry in front of people, his pride wouldn't allow him. He hurried in his frantic flight mode, something hunting him as he jogged.
"Reid!"
Go away.
Please, go away.
He heard Derek call out to him a second time and he changed his escape route from the elevator. By the time the doors opened for him Derek would be too close for comfort. The brute would only force him into a corner; make the thoughts echo deeper into his heart, giving him no choice but to bare the words he didn't want to repeat. He didn't want anyone near him. He just wanted to grieve. The bathroom was his second chance, he would have had to circle back to the stairs without running into Morgan if not.
He hit the door to the men's room nearly running full speed, the barrier giving way instantly, swinging open with a violent bang. Quickly, he tried to shut the door and lock it, not looking to see if there was anyone else inside. Two seconds too late and Morgan's weight was pressing in protest to fully closing the only barricade he had. He wasn't a match for Derek pressing the door slowly open, a foot wedged, until Spencer coiled away at a loss.
He was trapped now, caught and caged, the feeling Morgan always gave to him with overwhelming and unnecessary concern.
The darker male's voice echoed in the bathroom when he tried to pry Reid's attention from the sink he was leaning over. He could see the white knuckles of a hand clutched to the counter, the other around his stomach as it fisted in his shirt. In the mirror he could see the tightly pressed eyes hiding behind bangs and the mourning expression he was holding best he could inside.
Morgan's stomach twisted with Reid's. His heart ached at seeing him unnerved and hurt right in front of him and still trying to run away. It hurt that Reid wouldn't turn to him; that he wouldn't tell him what was wrong, what he was upset about, or worse - maybe he wasn't trusted enough to be put higher priority over pride. He was so hurt, but it was all forgiven in a second.
All it took was a strong and firm hand on his shoulder and Reid was sinking to the floor fast. Derek quickly reached out and wrapped his arms around the genius, helping his weakened knees ease the descend. He felt the silent quiver of sobs he refused to voice, the slowly, but surely coaxing of support as Reid grabbed and hugged his shirt's fabric. The way Reid eventually leaned into him, head buried in his shoulder, wet tear stains leaving shadow marks.
"Hey... hey, hey…" he whispered and soothed, his one hand keeping Reid in his lap and the other rubbing circles up and down his spine. "It's okay Pretty-boy, it's okay… I got you… it's okay," he hushed and held him tightly for fear he'd pull away.
It wasn't okay, nor was it going to be okay. He wanted to shout it out at the oblivious Derek in frustration.
He was upset, it wasn't fair. He clutched his fist, face deep into the shoulder trying to muffle the noise. Morgan didn't understand. His mother was dead, as in never coming back. Derek wouldn't listen to his newly found sobs and unspoken thought.
Stupid Derek. Stupid, stupid Derek.
His crying was wavering, exhaustion from trying to hold himself back proving an obstacle. He whimpered in defeat as he just sat in Morgan's arms. He had won. He had seen 'Pretty-boy, genius' all in a mess. He hoped he was happy now.
A hushed silence rang with barely audible sniffling, the moment ending as Reid's heart leapt in surprise at the booming voice.
"Get out, we're busy!"
Derek's suddenly harsh and aggressive voice startled him, making him inch away and open his eyes for the first time since Morgan had invaded his space. Over his shoulder he saw the fleeing figure of someone he wasn't previously aware of. Emotion welled in him and he instinctively curled around Derek to let out one last desperate sob.
Moments had passed before anything registered again.
Oddly enough there wasn't a cold floor underneath him, Derek's own limbs providing a resting spot. He recalled how the man caught him, sitting on the other's limbs, they must have fallen asleep by now. He felt guilty for soiling the majority of his shirt with his fluids, but strangely not as embarrassed as he thought he would have been.
He stayed like that for a while. How long he wasn't sure, but his fingers eventually eased from gripping and holding on for dear life. Only when he was good and tired did he feel Derek's cheek against the top of his head. His lips brushed just over his ear to reassure him with words softly spoken and the gentle caressing on his back that could have worn right through the clothing for the countless patterns it made.
For the barest of moments, he really did feel like it would be okay.
