Third part! Hope you like it. Thank you all so much for reading and for the reviews! I love hearing back from you.
I do have more, I just realized as I was typing up the third part that it was getting a little long, so I thought I would break it into two!
Oh God.
The room spun. Hotch leaned against the wall when he saw him. What was he doing at work?
Stand up, Hotch ordered himself. Don't let anyone see you like this.
He forced himself away from the wall. He began counting his steps in his head. His heart was pounding; it felt like 10 heartbeats per footstep. Worse when he passed by the desk. He couldn't look at him, but he felt he was being stared at.
"Morning, Hotch," he heard a voice say to him weakly.
Hotch kept moving, but managed to say "Good morning, Reid," as he passed.
Get to your office. That is all you need to do right now. He took rigid mechanical steps, one, two, three, four...Focus on your breathing.
He took his keys out of his pocket. They felt heavy in his hand. He clumsily found the right one, and opened the door. He wanted to run inside, slam the door behind him and lock it, but he forced himself to enter calmly, shut the door almost all the way, leave it open just a crack.
Just get through today. You'll have the whole weekend to think. Just get through today.
The minutes felt like hours as they ticked by. He wasn't going to make it. Every second he was here convinced him he was going insane. Who was he helping by coming in to work today? It was to keep up appearances, but of course the team would be able to tell he was behaving strangely. They were hired for their ability to analyze behavior and come to conclusions. They would notice the way he was acting, and they would notice the way Reid was acting. It was only a matter of time. But maybe, if he left, if he said he was sick and he just went home?
Tickticktick
Breathe in, out…
"I can't do this," he whispered. I have to get out of here.
He pushed his chair back away from the desk so hard it almost hit the wall. Did he have his keys? There, under some papers on the desk. When had he taken those papers out? He shook his head. "I have to go. Now." He put his keys back in his pocket. He looked out and saw Reid. He was talking to Morgan, and, was he laughing? Hotch squinted his eyes in disbelief. Reid was handling this better than he was. Of course, Reid looked a bit pale, a bit sick, but that was so slight it wouldn't have been immediately noticed. He was acting as if nothing had happened.
How is he able to do that? Hotch thought with envy.
His guts twisted. Morgan was making Reid laugh, Morgan was making Reid happy. There was something between them, wasn't there? A cold sweat tingled over him when Morgan reached out and playfully messed with Reid's hair.
I really am sick, Hotch thought.
His feet felt made of lead as he walked to where Reid and Morgan stood. He walked faster when he saw Morgan and Reid getting closer. Morgan was whispering something, another joke maybe. Hotch had to get between them, or make them stop looking at each other, anything.
"I'm going home," he blurted out, less carefully than he'd wanted to. "I'll be back on Monday. Have a good weekend," the words spilled out of his mouth. Without waiting for a response he left.
Of course, he heard footsteps following him.
"Hotch!" Reid's voice called out. The footsteps were gaining, and Hotch felt Reid's long hand on his shoulder.
"Don't-" Hotch flipped around, his hand raised. Calm down, he thought. People can see you.
Reid flinched. "You okay?"
"I'm fine, Reid," Hotch said quietly. He was staring down at his feet. "I just can't be here right now."
Reid nodded, "Yeah, I get it." He tucked his hair behind his ear nervously. "Want me to drive you home?"
"No, no I do not want you to drive me home. I don't want you anywhere near me, okay?"
Reid bit his lip as it began to tremble. He ran his hands through his hair again and looked away from Hotch until he stopped feeling as if he was going to cry. He managed a bitter smile, "I'm pretty sure I should be the one saying that, wouldn't you agree?"
Aaron was silent for a moment, then nodded vehemently. "Yes, yes I would agree. Now, please, I think it's better for both of us if we just stay away from each other for a little bit."
"Why?" Reid took a step closer, and grinned sadly. "Are you afraid of what might happen?" He put his hand up to touch Hotch's face.
"For Christ sake, Reid, we're in public. Don't touch me." Aaron backed away, looking around the hallway with terrified eyes. No one was around that they could see, but it didn't make him feel any better. His insides suddenly felt very hot, and he spat out "Why don't you go back to Morgan? It looked like you two were having a great time."
Reid's forehead wrinkled in confusion. A slow smile spread across his lips. "Hotch, are you jealous?"
Aaron said nothing. He tried to walk away, but Reid caught his arm. He slapped it away, as if Reid's fingers were scalding hot.
"It's okay if you are," Reid said, still smiling. "I'd kind of like it." Quickly, before Hotch could even register, Reid pulled himself in close, his hands behind Aaron's neck. His fingers absentmindedly stroked his skin as he tried to kiss him.
"You're disgusting," Aaron shoved him away. He saw Reid's expression fall, he saw him go pale, but he couldn't stay and try to comfort him. "I have to go," he mumbled before turning and getting into the elevator.
Thank God for small blessings, he thought as he walked into his house, locking the door behind him. No one else here, he didn't have to worry what the others were thinking. Here, there were no "others". Just photographs on tables or on the walls. The time-locked eyes staring at him were unnerving, somehow. He took some off the walls and put them away. The ones on the tables he turned over.
He put on a cd and lay down on his couch. The music filled in the throbbing quiet that made his head hurt, the lyrics louder than his thoughts. He wanted the sounds to stop the thoughts and the flashbacks, but they still came. The silence, though. He couldn't take that. It was awful. His head was going to explode. He wanted to cry, he wanted to rage, but couldn't. He was powerless. He couldn't take back what he'd done, he couldn't make sure Reid would keep quiet, he couldn't make sure that Reid would even be okay. Should he give him a call, or visit?
"Of course not," Hotch said out loud. "Of course not, don't be ridiculous."
"I raped him," Hotch mumbled. The words had no meaning. Was it because, in his job, the word "rape" was simply part of the routine? It barely had any shock value any more. When a victim was raped, Hotch put all his energy into catching the rapist. It was automatic. "Rape" meant "find the profile, and catch the rapist". Like a machine. But, how could he have known he was capable of raping? Of raping Spencer?
He shuddered, thinking back on it. It had felt so good, better than anything he'd ever felt, but then, God, it made him sick. He hated himself.
He heard it begin to rain outside. It started softly, then steadier, the rain hissing as it mercilessly splattered onto the ground. The water running off the roof, pouring by the windows. He had a sudden thought of his house as a giant umbrella, and it made him chuckle.
He tried not to think of Reid. But he was there in his mind, and wouldn't leave. Reid and Morgan smiling at each other. Morgan was good for Reid. Morgan had not, so far as Hotch knew, hurt him the way he had. He played the night before over and over. Reid bent over on the desk. He had felt so warm, his skin was so soft. He was so thin, so trusting. Hotch felt a sob catch in his throat. "No,no,no…"he mumbled. He rubbed his temples, shook his head, but it didn't help. Reid probably wouldn't report it. Hotch knew the statistics. He knew that with women, only one in fifty normally report a rape. Men were even less likely to report it. He had seen it in his work countless times. He knew it, he knew the chances of Reid going to someone about this were low, but they were still there.
If it had been anyone else who'd done this to him, Hotch thought, he would have come to me.
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It was late. How late, he didn't know. He didn't care. He didn't want to set an alarm. He wanted to sleep forever.
He had a brief, dreamless sleep. He didn't know how long it lasted, but knew he awoke to the sound of the doorbell ringing.
His heart knocked against his ribs, like it was startled and trying to escape. It beat fast and terrified. He darted his drowsy glances around the room. Where was he? It looked familiar…no. He was home. Why was he in the living room? Where were his pictures? He rubbed his eyes hard, until he saw stars. He sat up too fast and the room began to spin.
The doorbell rang again. He looked to the door, then to the window. The police, he thought. Fuck. Reid did tell somebody. No, he didn't see any police lights outside. But that didn't mean anything. They probably didn't want to startle him. He walked softly to the door, or tried to. He stumbled and hit the wall with a loud thud. The doorbell rang.
He opened the door just a little, just enough to look outside.
He let out an unintelligible sound of horror. "Reid, what are you doing here?"
