So I'm totally experimenting with dream logic here but this idea has been toiling around in my mind for a while now. Might turn it into a two-shot! Let me know what y'all think!
Fragmented beyond belief, the jagged pieces of the mirror reflected only the ugliness of the demons inside Aaron Hotchner.
The spatter of blood decorated his face and shirt like rubies nestled in silk and he lay among the destruction, letting the sirens in the distant dark places deafen his hearing and the body in his arms blur his vision.
The tile felt cold beneath his spent body but nothing felt icier than the vividness of Spencer Reid beginning to drift away, his breathing become shallow and the signals of a painful death only moments away.
They were alone in the house.
As they always had been.
Hotch began to let Reid go and he lay with the body, watching the weak rays of sunlight melt the snow outside the bathroom window.
An ending such as this wasn't meant to happen.
None of it was.
Hotch prayed that someone would pick him up, set him in their warm arms and murmur promises of relief.
Murmur that it was all a dream.
That Reid, his darling Spencer Reid, would open his hauntingly beautiful eyes, tears instead of blood pouring from the wounds, and the murder would be only folly for the past to swallow up.
To be forgotten.
To be replaced by soft kisses.
The lonely truth was so far from the dream that Hotch could only hold onto Reid's lifeless form and hope that it was enough, that it was the closest he could get to the unspoken wish.
He would never again feel the butterfly softness of Reid's lips against his own.
Never again would he hold the agent in his arms as they lay beneath warm sheets at night.
Never again would he see the angelic face that lit up with a brilliant smile at each passing glance, tentative touch.
Never again.
Cloudy tears slipped from Hotch's closed eyes and he found himself sobbing into the unmoving body below him.
He clutched at the ripped shirt that cloaked the bullet holes seared into creamy skin and his teeth ground together.
The sounds that came from his throat were strangled…. gut-wrenching Morgan would say later.
They weren't the noises of the strongly scarred and capable Unit Chief who kept his team from drowning in the nightmares they saw each day.
They were the noises of a man who had just watched his lover die in his arms…. who just had the life murdered right out of him.
The noises of someone who may never find the strength to move from that shattered mirrored floor.
"Aaron." The voices were thick. Dim. Stupid to the knowledge of what had happened…what was going to happen.
Comforting hands were placed to the back of his neck and cool breath swept the dampened sweat away.
"Stop…" Hotch choked, eyes shut as he held onto Reid's lifeless figure, smothering it for all that it was worth. "Please stop."
He had fallen so far, become so dismantled that it was as though he had been placed among strange clouds of pain and guilt.
"Aaron."
He felt Reid being torn from his arms – his only lasting connection to his lover – and the guttural scream that followed left an acidic taste in his mouth.
Metallic.
Bloody.
Stop.
Don't take him away.
Familiar lips replaced the cool stream of breath on his neck and the silver zipper of body bag glinted in the grim sunlight.
"Aaron."
Louder, firmer this time, the voice was accompanied by sinewy arms wrapped over his torso, holding him close and edgy strokes over his hair caused him to release his grasp on Reid's bloody shirt.
The body bag was shut with a swoosh so quick it seemed to ignite a great flame within Hotch's eyes.
And he was staring into the fire – a rich amber color that glowed with passionate intensity and burned the memories of the murder away.
The flames licked at his flesh as he fell further into the arms, eyes open, struggling to hold a certain gaze that didn't grin back at him from the fragmented mirror.
Was this insanity?
Was this what loss of love felt like?
It was a beautiful descent….a journey worth travelling just to see how the human mind could handle what it was put through.
"Aaron. It was a dream, Aaron. I've got you," came the words, soothing as draped satin, and Hotch grew tired of struggling against the inevitable fall.
He fell back against a warm and creamy surface, so familiar to the touch that it made his fingertips tingle as they traced over smooth muscle and the delicate cotton of bed sheets.
The bed sheets where his lover used to lie at night.
Never again.
"Spencer?" Calling for the agent was worth the shot. Worth the hopeful dream that Hotch so wished for.
"I'm here. I'm right here, Aaron. Blink for me, sweetheart." The voice whispered.
Hotch let his eyelids kiss the tear tracks beneath his eyes.
The flames were back, still rich, but tender now.
Rounded in their execution and framed by gracefully long eyelashes that were as dark as coal.
"Spencer?"
"I'm here, sweetheart. You were dreaming."
Hotch lifted his head from the cloudy haze of sleep.
He was nestled in Reid's arms, the very much alive arms of his very much alive lover, with his head resting under the agent's chin. His hands were fisted in Reid's worn T-shirt, clinging for dear life, and the irregular pattern of discolored dots across the material indicated tears that had seeped into the fabric from Hotch's eyes.
"I can't lose you." The older agent choked out, unable to hide his darkest fears. "You were-"
"It doesn't matter anymore," Reid softened his interruption with a kiss, cradling Hotch's face close to his own and murmuring that it was all going to be okay.
"I'm sorry," Hotch whispered. "You….I shouldn't-"
"Look at me, Aaron." Reid's amber eyes were lit with the poignant blue of the computer screen that sat on the bedside table next to them. "It's alright. We all have nightmares. We all have dreams. We all have scars. And you know? That means the hurt is over. The wound is closing and the fears we have are healing."
It was beautiful.
The two agents lay together in their shared bed, wound tightly around each other and the comfortable silence only served to show that their kerosene dreams wouldn't cause them to sink or burn but would bring them closer to each other.
The kerosene dreams would ignite their eternal bond.
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