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Spoilers for episodes too numerous to mention.
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'Guilt Is a Powerful Thing'
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I can't sleep again. I could say I don't know why I can't sleep, but that's not really true. It's not at all difficult to figure out why I can't sleep. It would be easy to understand if neither I nor any of my teammates ever slept again. Anyone who does a job like ours is bound to have difficulty with not only sleeping, but also with remaining sane. On top of all my usual difficulty sleeping I now am feeling an enormous amount of guilt; over feeling sorry for myself, over not appreciating what others are dealing with in relation to what I am dealing with, just guilt. Guilt is a powerful thing.
I work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I'm a profiler for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. My original mentor Jason Gideon asked the Bureau to give me an age exception so I could join at age twenty one instead of the usual minimum age of twenty three. The age exception was granted, and a few months later I became a full-fledged member of the BAU. I am still their youngest member. I know I'm a good profiler, and it's not vanity for me to say that. Although I know I'm getting better, where I lack is properly dealing with things emotionally; and controlling my personal feelings about what I am dealing with. I could whine about my painful childhood, my parents, how I often haven't felt as though I was being treated as an equal, my feelings of alienation, and a number of other issues, and it would all be true; however that doesn't make it any easier to deal with.
I've been held hostage several times, and I've been kidnapped by a serial killer and held for two days. I was beaten, drugged and tortured over a two-day period. My team members were forced to watch some of what happened to me over a live video feed; but the truth is they don't know everything that happened. I had been held an entire day before they saw anything, and they don't know what happened before that or in between the live feeds they saw. I am not going to tell them what happened, either. When my ordeal was over I found myself addicted to the drugs I had been given. I kept taking the drugs to help myself forget. I didn't deal with the PTSD very well at all; and my drug use affected how I was handling my cases and how I dealt with my teammates. I felt even more isolated because I was pushing everyone away. One day I just decided I had to stop, and I did. I quit on my own, cold turkey without any help. Perhaps that wasn't the best way to handle it because I have had cravings since then, though attending meetings of Beltway Clean Cops has helped. I've been completely clean for over three years now, and I am very proud of myself.
And now here I am again sitting in my apartment feeling sorry for myself and unable to sleep. I find myself standing up and walking restlessly around my apartment from room to room trying to find something to keep my overactive mind occupied. I could read, but I go through the books too quickly, and my eyes are too tired to read anyway. I already tried watching television and couldn't keep myself interested in anything, but maybe I could try again? I find myself turning the TV on again and going down the entire list of channels to find something that interests me. I finally hit upon a marathon of 'Dirty Jobs' on the Discovery Channel, and I watch it until after 3 am when I somehow manage to fall into a restless sleep on my living room couch.
I awake a few hours later with a headache and the television still on and an infomercial for a Real Estate moneymaking scheme playing. I turn the television off and groaning I undress and climb into the shower. Once I am again fully dressed I realize how depressed I still feel and that I'm still tired and once again I start feeling sorry for myself. Of course feeling sorry for myself is then followed by feelings of guilt about feeling sorry for myself.
Suddenly a photograph sitting on a shelf catches my eye. It was taken just a few weeks ago and includes all seven of my team members plus Will, Henry, Jack and Kevin. It was one of the first pictures taken after the tragic murder of Hotch's ex-wife Haley. Suddenly it hits me why I am feeling the guilt and I am ashamed. I know I've had terrible things happen to me, things that no one should have to deal with; however, how can I worry about myself when Hotch has had to deal with everything he has dealt with? Not only has his wife been murdered and his son left without a mother, but only weeks before her death he was brutally stabbed by Foyet, the man who would later kill Haley. In addition he has had to deal with the politics associated with his job, concern for me, concern for the other team members and the constant worrying over whether he is making the correct decisions and working the right cases. A lesser man than Aaron Hotchner could never have handled the hand he has been dealt in life these last few months. I certainly don't need to add anything else to his plate for him to deal with right now.
I suddenly feel a small sense of purpose, and I grab my wallet and car keys and head out the door. At first my car won't start and I hear Morgan's voice in my head telling me I should buy myself a brand new Mustang or some other car he refers to as a 'chick magnet', but then the car takes pity on me and starts up and I drive off. On my way I stop at a Toys R Us and pick out a set of Legos and a set of Lincoln Logs and then head out on my way again. I pull up in front of the house and park, and suddenly I don't feel as sure of myself as I did when I first left my apartment. However, I make myself get out of the car and then walk up to the door and knock.
A moment later the curtain moves and a face looks out the window and then the door opens and a surprised Aaron Hotchner is greeting me and inviting me in. "Reid, I didn't expect to see you today."
"I, uh, I brought Jack a couple of things."
He looks at me and then calls out, "Jack! Spencer is here and he brought you something!"
A moment later his beautiful four and a half year old son comes running into the room and grabs onto my leg. "Spencer!" I can't help laughing as I hand him the Legos and the Lincoln Logs. He grabs them, says thanks and runs off with his new toys.
"Come into the living room, Reid." As we start walking he continues, "I appreciate you coming over and bringing Jack the toys; but, what's this really about?"
"Nothing in particular," I say as we sit down on the couch. He just looks at me and I soon find myself telling him about my inability to sleep, and the fact I am feeling sorry for myself. I also spill my feelings of guilt regarding the fact I focus on my own problems, and don't spend enough time being concerned for others.
"Reid, you're being ridiculous. I can think of few people who are more concerned about the people they work with than you are; except maybe Penelope Garcia. You have had a lot to deal with; things that none of the rest of us have had to face."
"Hotch, how can you say that after everything that's happened in the last few months? After everything you've had to deal with? Not to mention the added burden of having to still be in charge and run the team while also running interference with Strauss."
"I know we've all had our own issues, but yours haven't been any less important than anyone else's have been, Reid. We each have to deal with things in our own way; and you shouldn't feel guilty about dealing with your own issues. Frankly I think your biggest problem is you try to deal with problems on your own, but then you feel guilty because you can't always do it on your own. Then you start worrying about everyone else and you feel even worse because you think you aren't considering them enough, so you don't ask for help because you don't want to burden anyone. It's a vicious cycle, Reid. You can't take care of everyone and you can't always do everything on your own. Like when you first started having nightmares and you didn't want anyone else to know. As it turns out, we all have them."
"You try to take care of everyone, Hotch. And you hardly ever ask for help."
"And sometimes I'm wrong about that. Sometimes I should ask for help. But I don't ask because I'm too stubborn and I think I know everything. You don't ask because you don't want to bother people. There's a difference. And, I hate to say this, but I think there's a lingering bit of you still being concerned people will think less of you for needing a little help; as if it makes you a less worthy person. I'm here to tell you it doesn't make you any less of a person to ask for help once in a while."
"You either, Hotch."
"I know, I know." He smiled at Jack. "How are you doing over there, little man?"
"Can you and Spencer play with me, daddy?"
"Of course," Hotch says. The two of us get down on the floor with Jack and start fitting Lego blocks and Lincoln Logs together. It isn't long before I have a pretty decent log cabin taking shape and Hotch and Jack have a Lego fort materializing.
I don't feel guilty any more. I can't swear I'll never feel that way again, but right now as I am playing with children's toys I am also thinking back to the first time I was certain SSA Aaron Hotchner thought of me as his equal; and right now I am feeling the same way I did then.
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A/N: I nearly always write in past tense, usually in third person. I've found myself writing in first person with my Reid-centric one shots for 'I Could Have Done Anything I Wanted to Do', and usually in present tense. I find myself doing the same for this story since it is also first person from Reid's point of view. I also have been known to switch back and forth between past and present tense in the same story. It works for me as a writer, but if it bothers anyone, please feel free to let me know. Doesn't necessarily mean I'll stop doing it, but you can still let me know. :- D
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