Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.
WARNING: If you are triggered by suicidal images then please do not read any further.
Other Warnings: This story contains disturbing material, some horror towards the beginning, mention of drug usage, suicidal thoughts/images, and brief violence.
Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. All the feeback is much appreciated.
Luvnumb3rs: Thanks for the review and giving me the idea for a second chapter. Yeah, an addiction, especially with other factors in Reid's life, would be difficult to get over, especially that quickly.
nw21jcc: Thank you for reviewing and requesting a second chapter. Hope you enjoy!
SpiderKateCriminalMind: Thanks for reviewing. I agree, there should be more "Revelation", Reid-centric stories. Hope you enjoy the new chapter.
T-Bone14: Thanks for the review. Bad things are always happening to Reid. Poor guy.
Bonkers4Reid: Thanks for the review and the feeback on the details. I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter and hope you like the second just as much!
Harrypotter-PercyJackson: Thank you very much.
Leavinghome: Thanks for the review. There is more Reid suffering in this chapter. I agree, it would've been nice to see more on Reid's recovery. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last.
Dragon-Ruler of My Domain: Thanks for the review. Yes, there should be more on his recovery. I'm surprised he didn't relapse because of some of the stuff that happened after he started using, especially in episodes like "Elephant's Memory." Reid's addiction was a good subplot they should've continued with. I hope you enjoy this chapter.
On with the story!
Five minutes passed feeling like an hour. The clock attached to the wall sent a throbbing pain through Reid's head with each tick. The pain showed no sign of easing up. Reid closed his eyes if merely to alleviate the constant stinging. His breathing increased and clutched his stomach with his hands. He rolled over, yelping in agony.
His eyes met with the numbered face. Each move of the second hand taunted him. Reid mashed his clenched fists against his ears with eyes shut tight.
He promised. He lied. He's not coming.
Reid tossed his head. Behind the lids he saw himself standing in a darkened church. The only light cascading from a conveniently placed hole in the ceiling illuminated a shiny casket just behind the altar. Reid slowly made his way to the coffin. The lid popped open and the disfigured face of the recent victim stared at him. Her name was Michelle Mathias, a popular, high school junior excelling in all her classes. The eye that was still recognizable as said organ leaked clear fluid.
Reid gulped and tried to escape. He fell into the seat of the front pew. He tried to move his hands only to find them shackled to the seat. He looked up to see the weeping corpse reaching out for him. Reid whimpered. The pain pushed further into his skull emitting a scream. The teenage girl tilted her head to the side. Her bloody fingers touched Reid's skin. He shook his head trying to keep his eyes from meeting hers. As though caught in a trance he found himself staring at her deformed face.
What once were her lips parted spilling blood onto her pink blouse. Reid struggled in his restraints. The chain links clanked against one another. No amount of writhing released the hold.
"You didn't save me," the girl spoke.
Reid shook his head. He could see behind her pale, transparent, green eye.
"Please, believe me, I tried," Reid cried. "I tried. I really tri—"
"You should've noticed a pattern sooner," she said. "I was going to go to college you know."
"Please, stop it," Reid begged. If only he could move his hands to his ears to block out the sounds.
"You knew something was wrong with that man," Michelle stated. Though they lacked life, her eyes displayed hurt and betrayal.
"We caught him," Reid responded. "My team, we—" He looked up at her with tearstained cheeks. "I wanted you to rest in peace."
Reid shivered and opened his eyes. He ran a hand over his sweating forehead. It was only a dream. It was the same since the day of the case. The ghosts of those they were too late to save haunted his thoughts and dreams. Their faces seeped into his unconscious and waited for him to let his guard down to emerge and begin the torment. It was a torture for which dilaudid was the only cure.
When he was tweaking the memories increased. He only wanted to shut them away. The physical strain he could take, it was the faces of the dead he needed to lock away in the depths of his mind. The drug imprisoned them in a realm where they could not be released until the effect wore off. It had been almost a day. The nightmares would continue. Even now he struggled to rid himself of Michelle' face. If he were just allowed one more hit.
No. No. Gideon's coming. He's going to help me through this.
Reid glanced up at the clock. Only six minutes had passed since he dozed off. He clutched the phone in his grip and looked up his call records. Fifteen minutes. It had been fifteen minutes since he hung up with his mentor. It only took that amount to travel from Gideon's residency to Reid's apartment.
He's not coming. He lied. He can't help me.
Reid tossed his phone against the wall and watched as it shattered. The battery fell out and the screen was now cracked. Reid rested his head in his hands. The tears mixed with the blood. A trail of crimson lined the carpet. The place resembled one of the murder scenes he frequented.
The nightmares will never end. I cannot remove them. Dilaudid is stealing my soul. He eyed his messenger bag. What he wanted was usually housed in that bag. Now he was out and he had to suffer the faces of the dead until he found another hit. So often he snuck the vials and needle on the plane and to his workplace.
The others never noticed his visits to the bathroom. He feared what would have happened had any of them caught him. Morgan would have comforted him and force him to seek help in return for his silence. Hotch would likely fire him on the spot. Then there was Gideon. Gideon, the man he saw as a father. He hated to disappoint him. He regretted seeing that look of guilt that he could not do enough for his protégé.
Reid realized that if Gideon did show, which he doubted, he would look at him with those same eyes. The disappointment would radiate from the man who cared for him the most. Reid could not bear to see that look in his eyes again.
It won't end. I keep hurting everyone. It's not fair to them. I don't want them to worry. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't even want to... He opened his eyes and for the first time since he began using everything made sense to him. I cannot make them suffer anymore because of me. I just want the pain to end. There was a way to send the shadows away—forever.
Reid hobbled over to the table. Beside his bag sat his badge and handgun. He picked up the revolver and stroked its cool edges. Reid held the gun by his side and made his way back over to the door. He stared himself in the mirror. The poor excuse for a man, a useless member of the team glared back at him. He never loathed anyone more than his own soul. He realized he would never be able to end the pain that consumed him daily. Reid was aware of the statistics of what became of junkies. So many of the ones he witnessed during his line of work and in his own personal life were never able to overcome their sickness so how could he.
Reid smiled. "You were wrong, Tobias," he said to himself. He chuckled then inhaled in time for a sob. A new tear trickled down his face. He wiped it away with the side of the gun. He smiled at the loathsome reflection. "There is another way to deal with it."
Reid straightened his posture. His hand shook as he checked the magazine. It was loaded as he was instructed. Hotch told him that an agent must always be prepared.
Reid stared into the grief-stricken eyes of his reflection. He shut the rounds and steadied his finger behind the trigger. He was not a perfect shot but even he could not miss this monster. He placed the barrel against his right temple. The man staring back at him had nothing to say in his defense. It was the perfect justice. The pain and all the nightmares would end. Reid placed his finger firmly against the trigger. All that mattered now is if he had the guts to be a man and pull.
I don't want to live any longer.
He refused to shut his eyes. He wanted to see the death. With one quick breath Reid slightly moved his finger.
"Spencer!" he heard from the outside of his door followed by a rhythmic rapping.
Reid gasped and dropped the gun. He contemplated leaving it there. He shook his head and clicked on the safety before tossing the revolver over on the table.
"Spencer, open up!" the concerned voice shouted.
Reid stepped up to the door and hesitated. His hand hovered over the handle.
"Spencer!" Gideon cried. "Open up or I'll break down the door."
Spencer winced. His superior was perfectly capable of fulfilling his threat. He unlocked the door and slowly opened it to reveal his mentor staring with the epitome of concern on his features.
Gideon did not wait to be invited in. The first thing he noticed, other than Reid's hesitation to give him access to his house, was the disheveled appearance of the boy. He took in Reid's appearance and fought the urge to call an ambulance. He looked as though he had been crying. Gideon had seen that look many times in his career, an agent struggling with his own sanity. He skimmed the room to see it in just much despair as its owner. Still it was the blood that disturbed him.
Gideon returned his gaze to the boy to find the origin of the leak. His eyes widened at the sight of the color he rarely saw upon the young agent's frame. He snatched Reid's wrist to inspect the injury.
"What happened to your hand?" Gideon asked. His eyes met with Reid's.
Reid tried to pull his hand away, but the older man was not having it. Reid finally conceded. "It was an accident," he said silently.
"There's a hunk of glass in here," Gideon said ushering Reid to the couch.
He left Reid sitting alone as he passed into the bathroom. Flicking on the light switch Gideon stared in shock at the disarray before him. A bloody handprint stained the sink and several other traces of blood were seen on the floors. Gideon would question the boy about it later, for now there were more important matters at hand. He searched until he found the bottle of antiseptic, a clean washcloth, and some bandages.
Gideon sat down beside the boy and grabbed his hand. "Sit still, this might hurt," Gideon said kindly.
Reid looked up at him. It had been over a decade since he heard anyone speak to him in that voice. His mother used to say similar words while cleaning a cut or bandaging a wound. That was before the tables turned and he became the caretaker.
Reid winced as Gideon pulled the sliver from his palm. He figured a smaller piece broke off when the glass sliced him earlier. Gideon quickly cleaned the wound and dressed it as gently as possible.
"This is a serious injury," Gideon said making direct eye contact with Reid. "I can drive you to the hospital."
Reid shook his head. "No, I got most of it."
"There could still be fragments deeper in the skin,' Gideon argued.
Reid stood his ground. He knew what the doctors would do if they found the track marks or traces of dilaudid in his bloodstream. The news would reach the BAU and possibly even higher ranks within the FBI. It was not a risk he was willing to take for something he considered to be minor. If it worsened in a few days he would seek medical attention.
"No, I don't want to go to a hospital," Reid stated.
Gideon conceeded. "Very well." Reid could tell there was more. "It's just too severe of a wound to be cast aside as a simple accident.
Reid snapped, "It was an accident." He noticed the suspicion on Gideon's face. "You—you don't think I did this on purpose?"
Gideon lifted a hand. "I didn't say anything, Reid. I can just see that you look like someone who is ready to throw it all away."
Read diverted eye contact. He berated himself for believing he could hide anything from Gideon.
"I'm here for you, Spencer," Gideon spoke. "You look horrible. You want to tell me what's going on?"
Reid shifted. There was no reason for him to hide anything anymore. He was the one who called Gideon over. "I just—I don't feel like I can take it anymore."
Gideon said not a word. He merely nodded for Reid to open up further.
"I just—I can't…" Reid trailed off. He already worried his friend. He dreaded seeing the disappointment in addition. He looked up, tears welling at the bottom of eyes. "Please don't be angry with me, Gideon."
"I won't be angry," Gideon promised.
Reid looked down at his feet. He could not bear to see Gideon's face when telling him the news. "I've—I—" He could not form the words. A gentle smile from the other gave him the courage he needed. He immediately regretted looking up. "I haven't been honest with you." Reid swallowed a forming sob. "About—I've been, um, I—I've been using again."
Gideon sighed, but spoke not a word. Reid glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. The man looked a bit sad, but not at all surprised.
"How often?" Gideon asked.
Reid tore his gaze from Gideon. "Every other day, more or less."
Gideon inhaled sharply.
Reid pulled his gaze from Gideon. "You're angry?"
Gideon shook his head. "No, I'm not angry. Disappointed, confused, concerned, scared, hurt, yes, but not angry."
Reid mentally cursed himself. He would rather Gideon be infuriated with him than any of those emotions listed.
"When was the last time you used?" Gideon asked.
"Yesterday," Reid answered in a hushed voice.
The look on Gideon's face hurt him.
"I'm sorry," Reid said. "Let's not talk about this."
"No!" Gideon yelled. "We are going to talk about this. We should've talked about this a long time ago. You asked for my help and that's what I'm going to do." His eyes softened. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I just wish I noticed sooner, or you told me.
"This is my fault, not yours," said Reid. "Don't blame yourself."
Gideon pulled Reid into an embrace. Reid was hesitant at first, but eventually gave into the comfort he so longed for. Reid snuggled his face against Gideon's chest. Gideon smiled at the younger man. The sight reminded him of when his own son would run to him for comfort before Gideon's job and the divorce forced them to grow apart.
"I just wish you would let me know when you're feeling this way so I can help you," Gideon stated. He hated seeing someone he loved so dearly in such pain.
Reid replied, "What if it's too late?"
Gideon tightened his hold on the boy. "It's never too late, Reid." He paused to make sure Reid was listening. "If you want help all you have to do is ask." He pushed a stray hair from Reid's sweating forehead. "Tell me, what brought this on tonight?"
Reid sniffled. "Michelle Mathias," he said.
"The last victim of that case?" Gideon asked.
Reid nodded. "I keep seeing her face. I can't even sleep without her there."
"So you shoot up to get rid of her memory?"
Reid nodded again. "I keep seeing them. I just want to forget. If just for a while."
"Spencer," Gideon said in a kind voice. "Listen to me carefully. There was nothing you could do."
Reid pulled himself from Gideon's embrace. "But if I tried harder, if I noticed the pattern sooner," Reid retorted.
Gideon shook his head. "Spencer, none of us noticed it. We're all equally at fault there." He watched Reid tremble, but the boy needed to hear his words. "Her death was not your doing. It was Fuller who killed her. You saved another girl. Jackie would've ended up just like her if you didn't figure out the unsub's way of finding these victims. That was a victory." He looked Reid in the eyes. "There are things you learn in this field and things you need to know up front. This is one of them: we can't dwell on what ifs. It's too painful. You're always going to remember the ones we lost. They become a part of us. They help us remember why we protect the innocent, why we have to keep going." He wiped a falling tear from Reid's face. "But just remember, you don't have to suffer alone."
"Thanks," Reid said after letting the words digest. "But it's still difficult."
"I know," Gideon replied. "Anytime you want to talk, I'll listen. If I'm not available you can talk to anyone else on the team. If you want you can go to therapy once or twice a week, or meetings. Just please don't turn to drugs."
Reid stayed silent for a few beats. Finally he spoke his fears, "I don't know if I can stop."
Gideon placed a hand atop Reid's shoulder. "Then I will help you." He stood, helping Reid to his feet. "I think for now it's best that you're not alone. You should come stay at my house for at least a month where I can keep an eye on you. The first month is going to be the toughest, but I will be by your side the whole time." Gideon smiled knowing that Reid would be more hesitant to use if always in the presence of another. Besides he knew that Reid would not betray their friendship by bringing drugs into Gideon's home. "But I won't force you."
Reid looked up at him with determined eyes. "I want to stop. Please help me."
Gideon nodded. It would take some time, but he would do his best to make sure Spencer, his son, made it through.
Hope you all enjoyed!
Update 7/28: This story was intended to be only two chapters long, but several of you have asked for a third chapter. I don't know if there will be one, because I don't want this story to grow old and stale, as well as not sure what should happen next. If you have any ideas of what could happen in a possible third chapter, please leave it in a review. Thanks.