Just a Nightmare
The Bunker (ep tag #2)
CM K+
(Reid, JJ)
a quick thank you—and apology for neglecting to do that for the previous episode tag—to my beta extraordinaire, Aut. As always, on point with the on demand beta read, sounding board and input where (correct) words fail me.
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Gun drawn, he advanced down the corridor quickly. Cautiously rounding a corner, he halted momentarily, determined it was clear and continued along the hallway's length.
A door slammed shut behind him, locking in place and blocking any chance of turning back. Unfazed, he ventured forward, repeating the procedure at the next corner. Again and again as he came around another corner, a door would clang into place behind him, cutting off any possible retreat. His pace quickened, he was nearly breathless yet he raced down the corridor and came to an abrupt stop as he encountered a glass door. The hair on the back of his neck rose and he spun around. Behind him, a door slammed into place, trapping him in a glass-enclosed cell. He could feel apprehension set in and took several deep breaths, trying to fight the rising panic. Lowering his weapon, he hammered once, twice, on the glass with one hand and then turned and leaned against the glass, sliding down until he was sitting on the concrete floor. He fought to hold it together as he began to hyperventilate.
And then Spencer Reid sat bolt upright in bed, bathed in sweat and gasping for breath. His heart raced and he ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm down and recover from the nightmare.
"Not again," he muttered out loud, throwing back the quilt and climbing out of bed. He made his way to the kitchen and got himself a glass of water. By the time he'd finished the drink, calm had been restored and he padded back to the bedroom.
Sitting on the bed, he plucked his iPhone from its charger on the nightstand. Thumbing it on, he noted the time, two fourteen a.m. Sighing, he replaced the phone and slid under the covers, hoping he'd be able to fall back to sleep.
At three twenty-nine a.m. Reid awoke again from the same nightmare. At four twelve a.m. he gave up trying to get back to sleep after experiencing the nightmare yet again and headed to the bathroom. After an extended hot shower, Spencer returned to his bedroom and got dressed, grabbed his messenger bag and left the apartment. Stopping at the Starbucks across the street from his building, he picked up a Venti Dark Roast and then walked the block and a half to the subway station. An hour later, he was jolted awake as the subway pulled into the station where he transferred to the train that took him to FBI Headquarters in Quantico.
Yawning, he disembarked the elevator at the sixth floor and entered the BAU bullpen. As he sat at his desk, his best friend, fellow agent Jennifer Jareau appeared at his side.
"You're early. Rough night?" she asked in quiet undertones.
He looked around, noticing that the two of them were the only people in the area. They made eye contact and JJ dropped into the chair beside him.
"Spence." There was a clear note of concern in her tone. "What's wrong?"
He sighed and glanced around again.
"Spence!" her concern was threatening to become alarm. She reached out and touched his arm.
He grimaced, sighed and whispered, "I'm having nightmares, JJ. Or more accurately, the same nightmare. Sometimes several times a night."
Realisation flooded through her. "About the bunker? The doors closing in on us?"
He nodded miserably.
She hesitated only a moment before reaching over to hug him. "Spence," she gasped.
"I'm running. Down the endless corridor. And the doors keep slamming shut behind me, locking me in. Just like—" he trailed off, eyeing the floor.
"The prison cell," she finished. Rubbing his back sympathetically, she took a deep breath and said reassuringly, "It's a nightmare, Spence. It's okay."
He brought his arms up and returned JJ's hug, whispering, "I told Emily I'd let you guys know if I couldn't handle the job. What if I can't handle it, JJ? What if this is the PTSS?"
JJ broke the hug off so she could lean back and make eye contact with him again. She shook her head slightly; his eyes were still downcast and she reached out with one hand to cup his chin and make him lock eyes with her.
"Spence. Is it debilitating?" she asked in a caring voice, searching his eyes for signs.
He considered her question for a moment, thinking about the last few nights. Certainly, he'd been disturbed by the recurring nightmare, but he'd managed to go back to sleep after almost every incident. He wasn't experiencing difficulty with work. Even having his sleep disrupted, he'd continued to function at his usual level of proficiency. He hadn't felt claustrophobic in the elevator just now either, he realised.
"I didn't freak out when we were actually down in the bunker. I couldn't!" he started, and then added "But sometimes PTSS happens later. After the fact."
JJ nodded. "So obviously, it didn't affect your ability to do the job, Spence," she led, a smile starting to form on her face.
Seeing it, his self-confidence buoyed a little and JJ forged on.
"You were completely in control, Spence. Calm and cool and in charge."
His eyes met hers again and he responded, "I was, wasn't I?"
"Yes, you were!"
Her reaffirmation strengthened him and he took a deep breath then released it.
"It triggered a nightmare."
He nodded, "A bad one. And I keep having it," he complained.
She touched his arm and suddenly laughed lightly. "It's the job, Spence. We go through all sorts of nightmare-inducing things on this job."
His brow furrowed for a moment, wondering why this discussion caused JJ to laugh. She patted his arm and said in a serious tone,
"I'm having nightmares about that bunker myself," she confessed. "But you know what gets me through them?"
"What?" he asked in a quiet, concerned tone.
"The knowledge that when I—when we—were actually living that nightmare, you held it together and convinced me we were gonna get out of it all right. And we did. It's just a nightmare."