A/N
Title: We'll Help You
Characters: Reid-Morgan
Pairing: None but can be read as slash
Rating: T
Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Friendship
Words: 1,427
Time: Takes place in season two, after the whole Tobias ordeal
I don't own Criminal Minds nor am I making a profit from this. All mistakes are my own.
The shrill sound of the alarm clock next to his head sent shock waves of pain through his body. Grumbling, he turned over and slammed his fist down on the snooze button. He hadn't slept at all, he had just been laying there all night; floating in the dark void of his mind. Actually, now that he was compelled to think about it, he doesn't remember sleeping a whole night for the past month since it started. Since his addiction started.
He knew a bottle of Dilaudid sat inside his bathroom on the sink, calling his name. He groaned and pulled a pillow over his head.
You are better than this, he said to himself, fight it! What would your mom do if she saw you like this?
The thought of her broken mind seeing him like this, cowering under his pillow in a sheen layer of sweat, trembling with the crave, begging to disappear, brought tears to his eyes. He knew he needed help, but he couldn't bring himself to get it. What would people think? He would just be some screwed up junkie trying to keep his head above water. Pathetic.
His alarm clock went off again and without thinking, he picked it up and flung it across the room where it met its death against the wall. Reid groaned and rolled over to where he was staring at the ceiling. He was already an hour late for work and he was somewhat surprised Morgan hasn't came and kicked his door down.
He felt his cheek become moist and he put his hand up to his face in confusion. He pulled his hand away to reveal a delicate tear glistening on his finger. He sighed and wiped the rest of the tears off of his face with the back of his hand. His eyes drifted again to his bathroom door where the bottle of redemption lay. He felt his body crave the blissful substance and he whimpered.
Pathetic!
Pathetic!
Pathetic!
He pushed himself up on his elbows and swung his legs over the side of his bed. He walked unsteadily to his bathroom and stood at the white door.
Stop it, he scolder himself, stop right now!
As if someone else was controlling his body, his lanky arm reached out and pushed the door open. There, sitting on the counter murderously was the clear bottle. The only thing that could help him heal but also the thing that could break him down. His feet moved mechanically to the bottle while he was screaming on the inside.
He stopped walking and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His skin was paler than usual, making the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than they already were. His cheek bones stood out more from not eating; the drugs made him vomit anything he tried to swallow. His eyes were dull and dead, a strange combination for him.
He was no longer Spencer Reid, he was the monster. The animal.
How could none of his friends have noticed something was wrong? They were either ignorant to the fact that he was basically screaming for help or they just didn't care. He was leaning more towards the second option. He sighed and opened clicked open the mirror to reveal the shelves behind it. On the bottom shelf, behind the box of Band-Aids, was a syringe. He pushed aside the Band-Aids and grasped the syringe. His key to survival.
He shut the mirror and stared at himself again, holding the syringe.
"I hate you," he said out loud to his reflection. In his mind, his reflection smiled back at him.
Once he said the words, he knew they were true. He hated himself. He hated what he has become. He hated life. His eyebrows furrowed at that thought. Did he really hate life? Not exactly; he still loved his team and his job but was that enough when you didn't even love yourself?
He stared at his reflection in disbelief, was he really contemplating suicide? Was he suicidal? He bit his lip, still staring at his sickly reflection. He should call someone, call someone right now. But… the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a welcoming idea. He could imagine it now "FBI Agent Commits Suicide: Depression or Serious Mental Issues? Tonight at Seven!"
He let out a bitter laugh but then turned serious. Would he kill himself? Could he kill himself?
He picked up the bottle of Dilaudid in his other hand and gazed down at it. The cool glass felt good against his bare skin and he shivered at the thought of it pulsing through his veins. Is he seriously about to do this?
No, no, no, no, STOP! He screamed inside, everything you worked for will be destroyed!
He bit the inside of his cheek painfully until he tasted blood on his tongue. He imagined his team finding his lifeless body on the floor of his bathroom. JJ would probably feel guilty since she was the one who separated with him at Hankle's. She would probably cry, maybe even get angry. Hotch wouldn't cry, Reid knew that for a fact. He would probably feel guilt for letting Reid come on the team at such a young age and feel he could have prevented this. Prentiss hasn't been on the team very long so she would probably wouldn't be affected as much. She might even be happy he was dead, given how cruel he was to her.
Morgan would punch a few things, break a few things, scream a lot of things, but most of all, he would hurt. Gideon would be devastated. Reid frowned as he thought of his mentor, his father. Gideon would defiantly feel guilt, maybe some anger. But what did Reid know? They could all have a big party when he died because they hated him so much. After all, they didn't care to help him now.
He let out a frustrated scream and threw the syringe and bottle on the ground. He felt angry tears burn in his eyes and he leaned heavily against the wall. He sniffed and wiped at the tears streaming down his cheeks before walking out of the bathroom.
He walked over to his side bed stand and grabbed his cell phone. He dialed the familiar number but then hesitated before hitting send. He swallowed hard and wiped at his tears again. Just do it!
He hit the button and put the phone up to his ear to listen to the rings. One… Two… Thre-
"Hello?"
Reid opened his mouth to say something but no words came out. What was he suppose to say? "Hello, I'm suicidal right now and I need you to come over so I don't kill myself. Okay? Thanks!" Um, no.
"Hello? Reid? Is that you?" the voice on the other line persisted.
"Morgan…" Reid began, his voice raspy from the tears, "I need help."
"Okay, Reid, just stay right where you are," Morgan replied quickly and Reid guessed Morgan knew what was going on, "You're in your apartment, right?"
Reid nodded but then remembered Morgan couldn't see him, "Yeah."
Reid heard shuffling on the other side of the line followed by the sound of a car start up.
"Just stay where you are," Morgan repeated, his voice panicky, "I'm on my way."
Reid nodded mutely and hung up the phone.
A few minutes later, Reid heard the sound of his apartment door being thrown open and Reid smiled slightly at the thought of Morgan throwing open the door angrily.
"Reid?" Morgan called and then appeared in the door way of his bedroom, his eyes wide at his friend's appearance. Reid knew he probably looked bad. He was shirtless, the withdrawals made him sweat way too much to wear one. His eyes probably looked monstrous with his greasy hair hanging in his eyes. He was sitting on the ground next to his bed with his knees brought up to his chest in a protective gesture.
Morgan approached him slowly, like he would if he was approaching a scared child. In a way, he kind of was. Morgan crouched down to Reid level and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Reid tensed at first but then threw his arms around the darker man. Morgan was surprised at first but then returned the hug.
"I'm sorry," Reid said as he felt more tears fall from his eyes.
"It's okay, kid," Morgan murmured and rubbed his back, "We'll get you some help."
Ta'da! I'll welcome any oneshot requests, I'll write just about anything lol
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