Hey again! So this was written in like.. and hour, I think? So it's a really quick, yet long, one shot.. There might be a ton of errors, I do not have the energy to read through it, and for that I am sorry, but I get really self conscious about my writing, so if I read through it I always end up deleting the whole thing...

Anyways, Major trigger warning for: Drug abuse, self harm, blood, suicide, death

Spoilers for s.6 e. 18 "Lauren".

Oh and because it got a bit confusing when explaining it: The sink I refer to, looks like this:
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The coffin disappeared before his eyes. The last step before she was gone forever. He would never see her again, dead or alive. Reid felt his heart race. His veins were burning in his arms, begging for his attention. And he might just give in. After all this time, sobriety was no longer something he wished for.

He walked into his apartment in a rush. Throwing his jacket over the chair in his living room, pulling his shirt off with such force he wouldn't have noticed if it tore. His face was dried in salt, his hair was messy from being touched once too many, and his veins were burning.

Reid went into his bathroom and closed the door behind him. He sat down on the edge of his bathtub, staring at his little hiding place beneath the sink. The team would be so disappointed if they knew what he was thinking right now. But why did that matter, he had always been the weak one, the kid as Morgan so often put it. They were all so busy dealing with the loss in their own way; he couldn't burden them any more than they already were. He sunk down to his knees, leaning forward towards the pedestal sink. He inched his fingers underneath the surface of the bottom of the sink, inching the tiny vial of liquid out along with the syringe he had stashed so neatly.

There wasn't much left. The content barely covered the bottom of the vial, to Reid's disappointment. He looked at his needle, and pulled up his sleeve. His skin was pale, and there were faint marks on his skin from a time he would rather forget. He had always been weak for an escape, a way to distract his brain from the world surrounding him. He had never been good at dealing with things, being open about his feelings. Tobias Hankel had introduced him to a new escape, promising him a better world if he injected the liquid into his body. At first, he had fought it, eventually he had accepted it, embraced it, and seen the good in the bad. When he had escaped captivity, parts of his mind told him to run; another part told him to stay. To stay within the four walls of the delusion. The more sensible part of his brain had told him to run. To not stop, to not think, just run. However, the delusion won, and he had stopped. He had done the one thing he knew he shouldn't; he took the magical vial Tobias had with him, and saved it.

And here he was. More vulnerable than he ever thought possible. He unhooked his belt from his pants, and put it around his arm instead. Sitting on the floor in only suited pants and a tank top, he tightened the belt around his upper arm. He looked at the inside of his elbow, at the veins begging for release. Reid took the syringe, filling it up with the last drops of substance, before injecting it into the most visible vein he could see. He could feel his heart speed up, before it slowed drastically. His head fell backwards against the edge of the tub; his hands fell along his sides. Sweat ran down his forehead along his closed eyes. He could feel each heartbeat as his heart slowly punched against his rib cage. And that was it. He no longer remembered Emily, he no longer saw her bloody body, imagined her lying restless in a coffin while it was being lowered into the ground. He saw nothing but light as his heart slowed down.

̅

He woke in a puddle of his own sweat. His heart was no longer calm, but beating frantically. His blood was racing, and he could feel it pressing down into his fingertips and toes. His head felt like glued to the bathroom tiles, his mouth dry in contrast to his sweaty body. He pushed himself off the floor, his body aching from top to toe. His head was ready to explode as he tried to pull himself up using the bathtub. He fell a couple of times, smashing his knees into the ground. He looked at the empty vial lying on the floor, pulling the needle out of his arm. Reid examined the syringe for any traces of more substance, but to his disappointment, it was all gone. He gripped the sink, his hands slippery on the marble surface. In a desperate attempt to find some more dilaudid, he checked beneath the sink. He knew he had only kept one vial, but a voice in his head screamed to double check.

Reid screamed in desperation when he found his hiding spot empty. Broken pieces of the mirror fell into the sink when he smashed his pale and fragile hand into it. He looked down at the broken pieces, seeing fragments of his face staring back at him. His hair was greasy, his face and body soaked in sweat. His once white tank now looked more yellow. He had no idea how long he had been out, but it hadn't been long enough. He looked at the pale skin of his lower arm. There was a small trace of blood from where the needle had been injected, and the color was mesmerizing.

He looked at the sharp edges of the broken mirror lying in his sink. He picked up one of the larger pieces and pushed it into his arm, above some faded scars that had grown invisible to the untrained eye. Blood was running down his skin, the contrasting colors fascinating him and encouraging him to continue.

After too much blood was covering his sink and the floor, he dropped the piece of glass onto the others, and grabbed a towel. He held it to his shredded arm, keeping the pressure to stop the bleeding. He looked all over his bathroom for something to close them up with, knowing they were too deep for regular Band-Aids. Reid finally found some adhesive gauze pad, and held his skin together as much as he could while bandaging his arm up. He turned on the water, allowing it to clean the glass of all trace of blood. Putting the broken glass into the towel, he threw it into the trash along with the empty vial and syringe, and cleaned the floor before collapsing on the couch.

̅

The vibration from his phone on the table woke Reid from his deep slumber.

"Hello?" his voice was groggy, and it felt like someone had used sandpaper on his throat.

"Oh thank god, Spence, I've been so worried about you! Why haven't you been answering my calls?" JJ's worried voice responded on the other end of the line, and reality washed over Reid as he rubbed his eyes and felt pain shoot trough his arm.

"What time is it?" He asked, more interested in what day it might be as he had no idea how long it was since jumping off the sober-train.

"It's noon, are you home right now? I am 15 minutes away with food,"

At the thought of food, Reid could feel his stomach scream in desperation.

"That sounds good, I'm home," They said their goodbyes, and Reid pulled his dead body off the couch. Everything was hurting. His eyes were burning, his head was banging, and he could feel his arm aching at every movement of his fingers, his wrist, anything.

Reid walked into the bathroom, grateful that he had cleaned it straight away instead of leaving it. He pulled off his dirty clothes, and stepped into the shower. The feeling of cold water against his overheated skin brought back every single memory that had been created these past days. He still wasn't sure how many days that had passed, but he knew they were not something he wished to remember. His heart was accelerated, making it hard to breath. His joints were stiff and moving felt a lot more difficult now that his mind was waking up properly.

He stepped out of the shower, drying off his body. He put on a clean set of comfortable pants, and was about to put on a t-shirt when the bloody gauze reminded him off his previous fallout.

He removed the bandages, cleaning out the wounds. They had been a lot worse than he thought, and a hint of disgust washed over him. How could he be so stupid? Not only did he break his sobriety, but also he relapsed into his childhood's addiction? He hadn't hurt himself like that since he learned the truth about his father leaving, and up until he was forced to put his mother in a sanitarium.

Reid put on a new padded gauze, and walked into his room to grab a hoodie. Just as he was pulling it on, he heard the knock on his door. He walked over to the door to let his expected guest in, but while walking over to the door, he started to feel queasy. JJ knocked once more before he was able to open the door, and the second it was open, he saw the shift in her expression.

"Oh my God, Spence, are you alright!?" She hurried inside, and he had trouble functioning his body fast enough to correspond to her movements and she awkwardly bumped into him in the process.

JJ set the bags she was carrying down on the floor, before tending to Reid and his fragile state. She helped him back over to the couch, making sure he was seated safely before returning to the food in the hallway. She brought it over to the living room table, and walked over to the fridge and got a bottle of water. She handed it to Reid, who took it gladly. He drank the entire bottle in one gulp, leaning back into the sofa.

"Have you eaten anything since the funeral?" Her voice dripped with concern, as she started to unpack the breakfast-meals she had brought from one of the diners not too far away from his apartment. The smell made his stomach flip, and Reid ran into the bathroom and managed to lean over the toilet bowl before his stomach emptied itself out. Not that it had any substance to empty.

Reid cleaned his face and washed his mouth before returning to the living room with an apologetic look on his face. He sat down next to JJ.

"I brought you the paper, wasn't sure if you had left your apartment, but judging by your appearance, I doubt it," She handed him the paper as if he had not just ran to the bathroom to empty his stomach. He took it, and looked at the date. It felt like ice going down his back. It had been four days. Four days since the funeral, four days since he had passed out in the bathroom.

Once Reid managed to gather his mind properly, he took the plate of food JJ was offering. None of them mentioned her name, none of them talked about anything related to death or work. They spoke quietly about the upcoming election, the drop in the stock market, about a book JJ had finally read that Reid had practically forced on her, but not a word about Emily.

After a couple of hours like that, she hugged him. She pulled him into her embrace without any obvious reason, and simply held him. He felt himself relax into her arms, letting go of everything. He was shaking at each breath, his body not able to fight it any longer. The tears were soaking her shirt, but she didn't mind. She just held him. Gradually they slipped down in a lying position on the couch, him crying while she comforted him. His breathing evened out, his body stopped shaking, and he was finally calming down into her embrace. She felt lost, holding him. He was so skinny, so fragile; the fear of him breaking at any moment, brushed her mind.

"She's gone, she's really gone," his words broke the silence, and a tear left her eye. But she did not answer. She stroke his hair, holding it against her chest as he was lying between her legs, curled into her body. She couldn't answer, she could simply hold him, comfort him. He felt her warm breath against his hair, and knew that tears were running from those beautiful eyes of hers, making them even more blue than usual. He loved her. He had always loved her. His feelings for her became more obvious to him, as he was lying there at his most vulnerable. She was exactly what he needed. Someone who cared. Knowing about his past, about his mistakes, yet here she was, holding him tight. He knew she would never leave him, leave his side.

"I need coffee," he said as he removed himself from her grip. The absence of her body heat against his made him shiver, yet he kept walking towards the kitchen bench and put on some coffee. Reid handed her a cup once she reached the kitchen bench. She was quiet, looking at the black liquid in the white cup.

"Jennifer, I can't do this anymore,"

She didn't look at him, just kept staring at the matter in the cup. He could hear her let out a deep breath.

"I can't take this anymore, I can't keep watching people disappear from my life, I just can't," his words were like a whisper, chocking in his throat.

He studied her as the words left his mouth, but she did not react. She stood there like a statue, simply gazing into the black abyss. Anger was building up inside of him at her lack of response. He took his coffee cup and slammed it in the sink. She jumped at the smashing of the cup, and he could see her eyes were filled with tears.

Guilt washed over him, and the pressure in his veins returned. The need to inject the opioid became so high; he wasn't sure how to deal with it as he was staring at her teary eyes.

"Spence, what happened to your arm?" A look of horror crossed her face as she suddenly leaned over and grabbed his arm. He looked down at the arm she was holding, when he noticed the blood that was soaking through his sweater. He cursed under his breath, but it was too late. She took hold of the sleeve, and pulled it up carefully.

"Oh my God, Spenc- Oh shit, what have you done!?" The blood had seeped through the bandages, and was slowly running down his arm. A few drops fell on the floor, as there no longer was a sleeve to catch them. She pulled him into the bathroom, and removed the bandages over the sink. He was too paralyzed in shock to even stop her. Her breathing quickened at the sight of the gashes. She covered her mouth in shock. Reid went into a state of paralysis, simply watching her absorb the situation. JJ looked over at the trashcan when she suddenly noticed something. A something was shimmering on top of a towel. She leaned down and picked up the used syringe as well as the empty vial.

"I told you I can't take it anymore,"

She dropped the stash onto the floor as she rushed back up to examine Spencer. She took his pulse, checked his pupils, before she froze.

"You need to go to the hospital, Spence, you need stitches!"

"I can't do this on my own anymore, Jennifer," A tear ran down his cheek, the look in his eyes reminded her of Henry, the innocence, and she felt goosebumps rise on her skin. He looked like a child who felt lost and confused, in need of someone to help them solve their problem.

She avoided responding to his statement, knowing she had no answer. She knew he needed help, she had known for a while. She just hadn't known how to bring it up without him pulling away. And here she was, the topic was up, and he was the one mentioning it, and she froze. Unable to help him in any way.

̅

"I thought you had stopped doing drugs,"

She had finally convinced him to go to the hospital, and the silence which filled the car was thicker than smoke. Reid was staring out of the window, while keeping pressure to his arm.

"You need to start talking to me, Spence! I know you have been through a lot, and this past week was the biggest punch so far, but you should have called me!"

"I don't deserve your help." He turned to look straight at her. His eyes were cold, sending shivers down her spine.

"Of course you deserve my help, you're my best friend!" She couldn't help the tears escaping her eyes.

"You didn't know what you were getting into, Jennifer, I'm weak, I'm a mess, and you don't deserve that."

"But you do?" She used the back of her hand to rub away her tears, as it was hard to see through the rivers filling her eyes. He didn't answer her question, and turned to look out the window again. The city moved past him so fast, the lights hypnotizing him.

"You could have died, Spencer! I can't lose you too! Don't you get that?"

"I didn't have enough drugs to die,"

It got harder to breath, and she pulled the car over.

"I'm not just talking about the drugs! Those cuts? You could have hit something!"

"They aren't even close to deep enough."

"That's a lie, and you know it Spencer! I saw the scars, the old ones? How long has this been going on, Spence?"

His stoic posture was making her annoyed. She picked up her phone, which gained his attention.

"What are you doing?" She could sense the panic in his voice as she unlocked the screen and started dialing a number. "Who are you calling!?"

JJ unbuckled her seatbelt.

"If you're not going to talk to me, I'm going to call Morgan." She opened the door, and stepped outside the car. She could hear him pleading her not to, but she felt she had no other choice. Knowing what she knew, no one would understand Reid's situation better than Morgan would right now. Spencer stepped out of the car once he had gathered some of his thought. He stood and observed her, talking on the phone, and her whole posture screamed in fear.

"I don't know what to do Morgan; he is not talking to me!" There was a pause, and Reid guessed Morgan was telling her something.

"Yeah, I'm on my way to the hospital now, I just... I needed to stop the car for a second, this is all just so much, and he could have killed himself by accident! I don't know, what else can I do?" Spencer dried a tear as it escaped his eye.

"Okay, I'll meet you there then," She hung up the phone and returned to the car.

She stood by the door, same as him, and simply looked at him. He could see the dark circles around her eyes, knowing the loss of Emily had taken its' toll on every one of them.

"I'll go with you to the hospital. You are right, I need help. As I said, I can't do this on my own anymore. I thought I would be able to, but being on my own, I realized how weak I am, and I just couldn't stop myself,"

"You are not weak, Spencer, you are the strongest person I know! You did not ask for this, you were not prepared; it is not your fault you fell into this! I should have been there, I knew what might happen! I shouldn't have let you go home in the state of mind you were, knowing about your history with drugs. I'm sorry; I've been a horrible friend,"

Spencer stopped fighting the tears, "Jennifer, you did not fail me; I should have reached out when I felt it building up! Can we please just go to the hospital, and then we can talk about it?"

Nodding, JJ got into the car, and they drove the remaining way to the hospital.

Outside the ER-entrance, was Morgan.

What is it with the feeling of abandonment? Reid thought to himself. He had all these people who cared about him, yet somehow his head kept twisting reality, making him believe he was alone. He looked at JJ. She was like the sister he had never had, the one he wish he had growing up. The one who stood up for him, who protected him against the bullies, and held him when he cried. Morgan as well. He knew he could always count on them. He knew he could always count on the entire team, yet he allowed himself to lock away when he needed them the most. Dying of an overdose would make him part of statistics. Spencer was not a statistic.