Title: Afraid of the Dark

Pairing: Reid/J.J.

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: Contains spoilers for Revelations! Also, it is un-betaed, so read at your own risk. Good old smuts to get us through elicit drug use and violent flashbacks.

Legal shit: I own nothing but my two very spoiled dogs, so unless you want to keep them in the life they've become accustomed to, don't sue me.

He sat alone in the dark staring at his empty bed. He pulled his legs up to his chest and began to slowly rock without realizing he was moving. His fought to keep his eyes open, knowing what would appear as soon as they forced their way closed. His fingers found the small bump on the inside of his elbow, and they subconsciously traced it round and round. His eyes trailed over to his computer desk, and his satchel resting in the chair. He knew the vials were there, and he had needles for his allergy shots on top of his fridge. He stared at the bag waiting for absolution, and didn't notice when he involuntarily blinked, that his eyes did not immediately reopen.

Suddenly he found himself strapped to a chair in a cold wooden building. He surveyed his surroundings just in time to notice the ragged eyes staring at him. "Please," he heard himself whisper. "It helps, he'll be back," the man said, sounding both sad and scared. "No, please," he whispered again, as he felt the cool liquid burning his vein, and almost instantly felt his mind drift away.

He felt fingers running through his hair, and looked up to his mother's face. Her eyes were closed, yet she continued to recite Chaucer as though she was reading it to him. "Tonight you are my love," she whispered, as her eyes opened to meet his own. "Time for bed," she almost whispered. He slid from her bed and walked to the doorway, "Goodnight." She just nodded as she slipped into a drugged sleep even before he closed the door. He walked downstairs and unplugged the oven, pushed all the knives into the bread box, locked the garage door, and pulled the pill bottles from his pocket to make sure he hadn't missed any before he headed to his room. Locking the door behind him, he sat on the edge of his bed and considered prayer. Putting the stolen pills in his pillowcase he slipped off his shoes and slid under the covers. Just to be safe he thought, inwardly he said a soft prayer to no one in particular, "Please, let me find someone who will love me always as she loves me when she can. Please, let my life matter to someone. Please, let someone care if I wake up."

It seemed like only moments passed and he was suddenly awoken by a harsh voice, "WAKE UP YOU SINNER!" Spencer violently fought against his restraints and found himself thrown upon his bedroom floor, jarred from sleep with the sharp contact of his shoulder blade against the cold wooden panels. He pressed his arm beneath himself to raise sore limbs. He slid his back against the chair, giving his bed an indignant look and deciding thoughts of his mother were better than thoughts of him.

He forced his lanky frame to stand, walking slowly to his bag and pulling out a vial. It felt cold and absolute between his fingers as he walked with purpose to his kitchen. His sock clad feet padding softly down the stairs. Just as he reached the kitchen door, his attention was turned to the video screen hanging at the end of the hall over his front door. Someone was standing on his porch. He set the bottle down on his sideboard, replacing its space in his hands with the cold steel of his firearm. He blinked twice to assure himself that he wasn't seeing things and silently stepped closer to the screen.

His gun fell to his side as his eyes focused on the slight blonde pacing back and forth in the snow, talking illegibly to herself. He stood for a moment confused; Why had she come here? Then, he noticed her shiver, and before he could give it a second thought he flipped the lock and swung the door open. Her bright blue eyes, clouded with pink veins, met his quickly. The confusion he felt mirrored in her own self doubt, neither spoke for a moment.

"Spence," she started, allowing her voice to fade, she had not intended to sound so frail. "J.J.?" he questioned, noticing her shiver again, he couldn't help but ask, "What are you doing out here, it's freezing." He wrapped his slim chest with his own arms, it hadn't occurred to him until this moment that he was wearing nothing over his wife beater and boxer briefs. Suddenly growing shy, he pressed open the glass door, "Come in, I need clothes." She stepped in, noticing for the first time herself his level of undress. She blushed and blocked her eyes with a gloved hand, "Sorry, I shouldn't have come. I should have called first, I should have…" Spencer had practically run up the stairs at the end of the hallway, but she heard him yell back, "No, it's ok."

As he stepped to the bottom stair he noticed that her hand was still blocking her eyes, and he couldn't help but smile. "Fully clothed now," he almost whispered, drawing her eyes once again to his. "Come in?" he offered after staring silently at her for a moment. "Thanks," she replied following his gesture into a comfortable living room, "I should have called first or something," she muttered. "Um, it's ok," he responded, "Why did you come here?" he asked after an awkward moment of silence and missed glances. She looked up at him again, and forced the tears she had been holding in to well up in her eyes.

"I wanted to make sure you were…" before she could finish her thought she looked away to allow the tears to fall against darkness. She looked back at him, his innocent face of concern and confusion, and continued, "I am so sorry." She began to cry openly and slid her face into her hands. He sat emotionless in his chair, watching her blame herself for his own stupid mistakes. He was the one who split them up; he was the one who could have gotten her killed. Despite all the natural fear he had for his own life, it was worry for her safety that haunted him through the whole endeavor. He had heard her scream, and had not yet forgiven himself for leaving her alone at the barn.

She made little noise, but her shoulders shook, and he could see tears sliding through her fingers. He looked at his side-bar, to the all but forgotten bottle and then slid slowly to the floor, long fingers reaching around her arms, forcing her to look up at him. "It wasn't your fault, it was mine," he whispered to her. His hands slid into her own, and she sniffled, "I watched you on the video and I knew it could have been me, I watched you die and I thought…" His own tears fell, and he cursed himself for being so quick to show his weakness to her. "I thought he got to you first. That was my only regret." She looked at him in disbelief, she had allowed him to be taken hostage, to be abused, broken with brutality and submitted to drugs, yet he had worried about her.

"Spence," she whispered, leaning her head into his shoulder and allowing herself to cry into his sweater. "I'm so sorry." He inhaled, taking in the soft smell of her hair, and forcing himself to enjoy the deepness of their touch. He rested his head against her own, and allowed her a moment to cry, her fingers curling around his neck and into his hair, as she leaned into him for strength and comfort. His arms slid around her, resting in the small of her back, holding her until her breathing leveled out, and her sniffles stopped, he smiled, realizing for the first time that she cared about him, she was worried about him.

He pulled back, surveying her face for emotion, reading the confusion and inner turmoil before allowing his mind to be won over by his desire, his chapped lips landing softly against hers that were so obviously pampered and even softer then he had imagined. To his great surprise she didn't pull away, instead, she leaned into him, her fingers once again finding their way into his hair. The kiss deepened, and his hands slid to cradle her body closer to his own, a whimper starting in her throat parting them for seconds. He didn't open his eyes, just leaned in, their foreheads resting against each other pressing hard for answers, for comfort, for absolution. Her eyes stayed closed as she turned her head ever so slightly to the side, again pressing her lips to his.