May 7th: A Scratch in the Night

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May 7th: Fear - 200 - You made me realize my deepest fear.

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It had taken months of mandated therapy for anyone at the Bureau to be comfortable sending him back out into the field after Scratch. Months of sitting at a carefully arranged desk with just the right balance between professional and approachable, talking about what Lewis had made him see.

There were things he talked about openly, knowing that they were creating the narrative he aspired to. Lewis's laugh as he'd shot the team. The heavy sound of Reid's body sliding down the door. JJ's scream. The fear, the horror, the desperation. The guilt.

There were things he didn't talk about, knowing they'd earn him a black mark on his file and a 'further evaluation recommended'.

The stink of blood that he still woke in the night to. The way his dreams were still haunted by a looming claw-handed figure, wavering in the mist. The sound of bone splintering open under the force of a hollow point bullet.

Reliving their murders night after night after night and then facing them in the morning with a smile and a mug of coffee.

All this was why, when he was given the option, he ran.

He left.

But he never escaped the dreams.