"Do it." Someone from behind him ordered.
"I can't." Reid's heart was pounding, his head whirling. He felt even more scared then the first time drugs had ever entered his system, and even more higher than the first time it took effect. Yet there was no comfortable warmth or ease, this was nauseating. He had a bad case of vertigo, he was sure he was going to hurl.
The gun quivered in his hand.
"Do. It." Reid shook his head in refusal. "No. No. I can't- he's. I can't." his voice caught in his trembling fear that overtook his body.
Hotch was on the ground a few feet in front of him with a wicked black eye. Blood was rushing down from a cut in his forehead.
"Reid." Hotch said slowly, almost in disbelief.
"Shut up!" Scrounge ordered. Reid kept shaking his head. "I can't. I'm not. I'm not like you."
"Reid…" Hotch muttered again. "Fight it."
Reid felt agitated, angry. He couldn't do anything. He just, he killed them. No, wait. He didn't. It was him, not himself, but him. And, and, he was just there. He hadn't killed her. Oh no, he didn't. But he did. Yes, he did. Not him, but him.
"It? Fight it?" Scrounge laughed. "I AM Doctor Spencer Reid."
"No! No no no no!" Reid muttered over to himself, insanely.
"Reid, I need you to put the gun down."
The wind whirled around, ruffling Reid's hair, and he was given a brief moment of clarity. They were on a roof. Why were they on a roof? He had never… why were they on a roof. Where was he?
"I… can't! He's making me. He's making me, Hotch."
"Who?" Hotch put his hands up gently. "Him! He's, right there." Reid surprised himself from where he pointed.
"Reid, this isn't you."
"I know that!" Reid exclaimed sharply. "But I can't. He's, he's so terrible, he can't, he won't let me. Scrounge, he's, he's so… he's the one who killed those people.
"Reid. What do you remember?"
"Nothing! I mean, wait, no." Reid put a hand to his forehead, concentrating. "I was in my apartment, and then, and then someone came in and, wait, no that's not right. I visited an old friend, an English teacher… no that's no right either."
Reid looked up at Hotch. "I can't remember Hotch. What's wrong with me?"
"Reid, I can help you. But first, I just need you to put the gun down." Reid hadn't realized her had been pointing it at Hotch, finger on the trigger. That's when the cruel reality hit him, and hard.
"It was me. I killed those people."
"Reid-."
"I killed those people and I don't even remember."
"Reid you didn't-."
"No! I thought I had it under control. It's not worth it, it's not worth it" Reid dropped the gun. It fired accidently, landing a bullet in Reid's leg, but he didn't even flinch as the muscle tore and the bullet ripped through the bone.
"I don't know. I don't know anymore."
"Reid, calm down." Hotch was on his feet, but made no sudden moved. Reid realized that he was taking small steps backwards.
"Reid, we just to get you some help, that's all." Hotch said gently, like he was talking to a scared puppy.
"It's not worth it. It's not worth it. He said… the world had to be perfect. Picture perfect. Reid mumbled to himself over and over.
"It's my entire fault. It wasn't working. Nothing was. He took over. He took over. I did all those things." Reid had reached the edge of the roof. He was dangerously close. Too close.
Hotch looked like he had been pistol whipped. Had Reid done that too? Of course he had.
"Reid! I need you to stop walking."
"No. I need. I don't know what I need."
He felt himself tilt backwards.
The birds chirped.
Then, impact.
Hotch had lunged forwards. He grabbed Reid's hand just before he tilted over the roof. Reid was shaking uncontrollably as he collapsed, his knees scraping on the cool tar roof of the FBI building.
"It was all in my head, Hotch. It was all in my head." There was no hiding it now, he began to sob. True, gut wrenching, twisted sobs that pained Hotch down to his very core.
"Reid, it's not your fault." Hotch said firmly, gripping onto to Reid, like and anchor he so desperately needed.
"No. No no no." Reid muttered. He scratched at his face. "No. No non nono nonono."
The moon was the only witness to the team's only weakness, as he showed his.
Voices controlled him. It was always the voices.