CHAPTER 10

Something about the way they hadn't even heard from Reid made Morgan's stomach turn. Something was off. Something was odd. Something was very, very wrong. And Morgan knew it. The way the kid had just disappeared, but with no signs of struggle... well, that led Morgan to believe the departure had, unfortunately, in fact been voluntary, but he liked to think he knew the kid pretty well, and Reid's complete lack of communication or attempt to return did not seem right. It all seemed wrong.

He knew the kid was scared. Terrified. Horrified, with what he had become. Frightened, of the thing that kept him on such a tight leash. The drug. The high. The glorious feeling of complete and utter invincibility. The thing that made that young, awkward kid feel, even if just for a second, that he was untouchable, as man.

Morgan knew that feeling. A couple of drinks and he was an animal on the dance floor. He never had trouble getting ladies, but it was easy to see where the appeal of liquid courage could come in. But never, never in a million years, did Morgan think he would find Reid injecting his liquid courage into his forearm. Desperate. Drugged. Addicted.

During all of Morgan's panic, Reid wasn't panicking at all. He was gone... he just was. He just stayed, all he had to do was just be. He wasn't himself anymore, because he wasn't anyone at all. He was a shell.

He had become the man in front of Carter's curtain. Managing to evade the FBI was no easy task, but the desperation within Reid outran all judgement and told him; it was what he had to do. He didn't have a choice, or they would take him away. Take Reid away from Carter, take Carter away from him, take the drugs away. Take what Reid needed so desperately right out of his trembling hands. Please. No.

He did what he had to do. During the day, he would transact, selling to Carter's various customers and running back to the man with the earnings and a hopeful smile that he had done well enough to deserve a bonus (typically the occasional small bag of high-grade heroin, just to keep Reid's growing addiction at bay. He had never experienced anything as wonderful as the powder before. It transcended all other feelings and took him over completely). During the night, he would rush back to the dingy hotel room he managed to pay for with whatever was left after he had made his purchases back from Carter, slam a needle, and ride the waves for a few hours until he was so sick with shame he couldn't do anything else but sit in shower under the running water, shake, and cry. Then he would start the process over again.

He hated it. He hated what had become. He hated himself. That was it. Himself, not the drug. It wasn't the drug's fault, and Spencer knew, somewhere deep inside, he could never hate the drug as much as he had grown to hate himself. This was all his own doing.

The only thing that kept him going was the hope that he would be found. Yet, he kept running.

He knew, it wasn't his own choice anymore, he was gone, and as he ran and ran and ran, and his body began to fail him, he would slow down a bit, and in those moments, he was always baffled when no one showed up to save him. Did they even want to find him? Did they see him as just a waste? That was probably it. He was a waste of a man; he had taken all of his gifts, those of intellect and creativity, of burdening genius and freeing intelligence, and thrown them out the window for drugs. Nothing more. Not money, not fame. Not women, not success. Just the drugs. That's all there was for him. That's all there was anymore. That was all that was left. Just the shell of the man called Spencer Reid.

Hotch had completely turned around. The stoic man was quickly becoming a nervous wreck, the longer they went on without finding Reid. Inwardly, he knew, Reid didn't want to be found, but that didn't stop Hotch from doing his best damn work to try. He needed his Genius back, safe and sound.

"Hotch. We have something."

"You're kidding." Hotch looked over at the document that Prentiss had set in front of him.

"Missing Persons says someone reported seeing this man with someone who matched Reid's description four days ago in a gas station just east of the city."

"Do we know who this is?"

"Not yet, Garcia is working on it."

"There's a federal agent - our federal agent - missing in all of this. Let's bring him home."

"I'll let you know if I get anything else."

Gideon approached Hotch after this fact. "Hey."

"Yes, Jason."

"Is the kid okay?"

Hotch sighed. "We don't know. We still haven't been able to find him."

Gideon maintained eye contact. "I'm afraid I have some less than favorable news."

"What's that?"

"I spoke with PD. They want us out. They don't see us getting anywhere."

"Not without Reid, we're not-"

"They're ruling as suicides."

Hotch blinked. "They can't do that."

Gideon cocked his head to the side. "They can...and they did."

"Even with the note left?"

Gideon clearly didn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth. He had his doubts, just as Hotch did. "They...believe that the note was written by the victim who's home it was in. Deep-rooted shame caused him to try to lead the family off tracks, keep them from thinking their dad, husband, brother... had killed himself."

This was odd to hear. Even for the profilers of the BAU. Hotch's confusion showed. "They think the victim would rather have his family believe he was murdered than the proposed reality that he took his own life?"

"I didn't say it made sense."

Hotch nodded, glancing down. "It doesn't." As the nearly uncontrollable rage coursed through him, Hotch had to take a moment to clear his head and get himself under control. The last thing he could do right now was lose it in front of his team, and in front of the local authorities. Especially when their opportunity to stay in Denver and continue to search for Reid was on such a short leash.

Obviously, a missing federal agent, that was a top priority, if it had been reported. But Reid wasn't missing, he was just gone. They couldn't report that. He'd be terminated. They couldn't file him as missing, either. If anyone other than the team found him, in the condition they knew he was in at present, well, he'd be terminated for that, too.

Hotch looked up at Gideon. "What do I do, Jason?"

Gideon shrugged. "Stop chasing him. The more you chase, the faster he runs. He won't come to you, either. He thinks he's been abandoned. We need to get in contact with him without getting too close. Let him know we're still here, we want him back, and we are ready when he is, to help him get through this." A brief hesitation, then Gideon's words came out a bit softer. "The kid just needs to know someone cares about him."

Hotch nodded, keeping his eyes on the ground. "How do I get in contact with him?"

Gideon took a moment to think. "I'll let you know when I figure it out."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Reid shivered as he walked through the streets during his shift. His gait was visibly affected, his trembling hands were shoved into his pockets, and he moved slow. To the naked eye, he would have appeared a bit drunk. To the trained eye, it was obvious. He was stoned beyond comprehension.

"Hi. Excuse me. Sir?"

Reid had to work double time just to turn his head and respond to the voice in a publicly acceptable manner. He stumbled over the word. His voice cracked. "Y- yes?"

The figure stepped out of the shadows. A young man... a boy, really, stood; shaking, with his long damp black hair hanging over his eyes and ears. It wasn't raining, so why was the kid soaked to the bone? This half-formed thought sluggishly moved its way through Reid's warped mind.

The boy was nervous. He held his arms crossed over his chest. Reid could see, through his barely-focused eyes, that the boy was young, maybe 18, and despite the cold, he only wore short sleeves. The shirt appeared to have been worn for quite a few days in a row. Even through his haze, Reid was able to zero in on the only detail that mattered: the tracks that criss-crossed the boy's forearms.

"You might be able to help me. I was-"

"You need drugs," Reid finished for him. The kid didn't break eye contact, but his face grew pale, and his eyes dulled a bit with his own shame raging inside.

"Yeah," the boy said, deflating, only then glancing to the side. Reid looked down, then stared up at the sky for guidance. Could he sell to this kid? "Please. I saw you work with someone a few blocks back. I have money, not much, but-"

"But you need it," Reid finished again, his voice falling flat as he saw more and more of himself in this sad, lonely child.

He shrugged sheepishly again. "Yeah."

"Kid..."

"And don't tell me not to, cos you're on them, too." Reid stopped. "You think no one can tell? I can tell. And other than me, you're the only other person I've ever met, who you can just tell is on drugs."

"Hey-"

"What happened to you?"

Reid immediately flashed back to Morgan's words: What happened to you, kid?

"W- What?"

"What happened? What made you like this?"

Reid looked away. "Look..." He hesitated. "Listen, kid. Do you want what I have or not?"

"What do you have?"

They transacted. As the young kid injected himself, right there in front of Reid, he felt sick to his stomach, and almost had to turn away to throw up. That also could have been because he had put off shooting up as long as absolutely possible, and was now dying for a hit. He licked his lips, watching the kid finish.

"Hey."

The kid's head had lolled back, and quiet moans occasionally slipped from his dry, parted lips as his eyes drifted shut.

"Hey, kid."

"Hmm."

"What's your name?"

"Dennis."

"Dennis."

"Yeah."

"You mind, if I get this taken care of?"

Dennis shook his head, the motion getting away from him a bit as he nodded off. Reid shot himself with a couple milligrams of the high-quality product that Carter had supplied him with, and the two ducked out of the public eye, collapsing next to each other in a heap where two brick buildings met, in the middle of the lonely city of Denver.

No one worth talking to was walking the streets at 4 AM.

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed. Been struggling with some personal issues so this story is going to come with a bit more time in between chapters than I'd prefer, but I hope you all understand. Also, who the hell IS that kid? Someone important, that's who. ^.^ Just don't forget about lil' Dennis throughout the next few chapters. He's a good kid. I sure like him. XP