'If we see a drowning man we do not drag him to the shore. Instead, we provide help to allow him to swim ashore.'
~ Winston Churchill
Spencer was predictable. They all were to some extent, it wasn't hard to figure out someone's routine when you were a profiler. When he never showed up in New Orleans, no one said anything, but the saying 'silence says more than a thousand words' had never rung more true. They all knew his problem, they all knew he was - as Gideon reported - struggling, but they never intervened. The team was made up of the oddballs, the kids who were abused, the ones who were bullied for being too smart. Privacy was something they coveted whenever they could, and even when a member was drowning they were never thrown a raft.
Instead, they were taught how to swim, and through a series of pushes, that's what Spencer Reid did.
Aaron watched him. They all watched him, but none more carefully than the Unit Chief. Since Gideon's departure, he had felt more protective of the young agent, not in the paternal sense, but in a more troubling one... one that only became more prominent when he signed his divorce papers, and only grew more persistent as the days passed by. His eagle eyes noted Spencer looking healthier. His complexion brightened, his features becoming less gaunt, and slowly, bit by bit, he became stronger. In facing his demons he had won, in his mind, he was king of the world.
But that wasn't true. He felt weakened, the ever constant battle wearing him, and only when he saw that boy die in the bathroom did it really hit him. This problem would never go away. It would haunt him, an ever present spectre waiting for him in the shadows, whispering words of comfort to his abused mind, coercing him to take that sweet step into oblivion... and he would refuse, the cycle ready to start again, as bit by bit, his will was chipped away.
Aaron saw this. He knew that Spencer would never go to the movies. It was out of routine, why watch a film when he could watch it play out in his mind as he read a book? As a lie it was pathetic, but under the thin surface it made him proud, and that feeling only grew, spurned on by Spencer's strength. How he wanted to hold the thin man, give Atlas a moments reprieve from the ever present burden on his shoulders, but he couldn't. Those in the BAU were watchers, they never got where they were by not being good at it, and now it was all they seemed to be capable of.
Two months after Texas, he saw Spencer absentmindedly palming a coin. It was unusual for such a mundane object to ignite this much joy in the taciturn Unit Chief, but seeing it, he had to act even harder on his shields. Instead, he got on with the briefing, his eyes flicking to Spencer just as much as normal, but he still hoped the young Agent could see how proud he was. As their eyes met, he let it show slightly, and the genius smiled, oh how he smiled, and one more memory was added to Aaron's vault, one more reason why he loved the man sitting only a few seats away.
Whenever they brushed hands reaching for the coffee pot, Aaron's heart would beat that slightest bit faster. Whenever he saw Spencer tucking his hair behind his ears, he wanted to be the one to put the chestnut lock back in place. Whenever he saw those snow white hands waving around in gestures as something undoubtedly brilliant was uttered from the genius's mouth, he wanted to touch them, to see if they really were as smooth as he thought. Whenever he made a breakthrough, his eyes lighting up as his mind joined dots that no one else could see, Aaron wanted to be able to ignite that fire, to set his face aglow, and know that he was capable of eliciting that reaction. He wanted it so badly, oh how he craved it, but he couldn't. He was the leader, and Spencer was a friend, a friend who had gone through so much, witnessed so much trauma, that he couldn't put him through another upheaval. He couldn't let him know how the boss loved the subordinate... oh how clichéd.
And then something came that showed Aaron that Spencer was stronger, much, much stronger than him. It came in the form of a letter hidden in one of his case files. That alone should have caught his attention. There, in Spencer's near illegible handwriting:
'I've completed my first year of my movie membership, would love it if we had dinner to celebrate.'
And being a Southern gentleman, Aaron just couldn't say no.
'Do you really think it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations which it requires strength, strength and courage to yield to.'
~ Oscar Wilde
A/N: This is waaay out of my comfort zone, in fact, I'm not really sure why I'm posting this. I've never written slash before, and I'm sorry if this is awful. It was a challenge set by my sister - pen-name: Alice Wednesday - involving Reid and Hurt/Comfort, and somewhere along the line, it turned into this. I hope you've liked it, and a review would ease my anxious mind :)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Criminal Minds, but I really wish I owned Hotch *dreamy expression*
I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes contained within this story.