Bitter Taste

Mumbles something about the WGA strike and support etc etc

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

He sat at his desk and felt almost content. This was where he belonged. This was where he felt he could actually put his talents to some use. Sitting at home playing chess day after day couldn't be good for a man's spirit. In fact it was completely soul destroying. It was nice for Gideon to come back and to keep him company, but his babysitter had flown the coop again, and at last his evenings were his own. Reid was early. Not very early, actually normal for him, just early for everyone else and he felt a little bit of control coming back again. The control which had been lost so many times recently. His fingers moved to his inner elbow of his right arm, and he wiggled his toes inside his shoes.

Reid looked at the sports water bottle on the desk in front of him and slowly picked it up and held it to the light. "Did you know that water has a colour? It is blue."

He thought he was talking to himself but a voice behind him made him jump and make a small squeak.

"I might have read that somewhere." It was Emily. "Lovely to see you back again Reid. Want me to get you a coffee; you look sort of alone there without a mug in your hand."

He turned and smiled his best smile at her. "No thank you Emily." A cheerful voice. "I'm good." And he showed her the Mountain Fresh Mineral Water bottle.

"Water? Are you sure you are ready to come back to work?" She was still smiling.

Reid turned back to his desk annoyed with her now. "I hardly think you are the person to judge my mental health." And he pulled out his pen and looked at the empty in tray.

Prentiss stepped around to the front of Reid's desk. "I didn't mean to sound – how ever I sounded. I can get stuff for your in tray if you want."

The smile still there, but now that comfortable feeling he had earlier had gone. Now he felt deficient and unwanted. He felt alone.

"Go away Emily." Was the only thing he could think of to say. "I need to talk to Hotch before I can 'fill in' any forms." Alright he had more he could say. He could say rather a lot but he held his tongue and watched her walk away and get a coffee. 'Hope she chokes on it'

……………

And now he was sitting in Aarons office and he was looking down at his hands and neither of them were talking. He didn't want to be here with Hotch, he just wanted to be at his desk or doing something, anything to occupy his mind, to take it away from where it insisted in slipping back to, over and over again. Every time he closed his eyes. Every time his mind got distracted from what he should be doing his mind slipped back to the dark places.

"The report says that they think it is too early for you to be in the field." Hotch was saying.

Spencer kept his eyes on his hands. His fingers twisting around each other. "The report is wrong." He muttered. "I am fine. I won't freak out. How many times do I have to tell people I am ok?"

"Probably until you show us that you are. Look at me Reid, I am talking to you." His voice was the calm cold voice Reid was so used to, but now the coldness felt like ice, and the calm: indifference.

He shifted his eyes to look away from his hand and over Hotch's shoulder and rubbed his sweaty palms on his legs. "I was thinking." And his eyes flickered around the room. "Of requesting a transfer, maybe to organised crime."

Hotch looked at Reid sitting fidgeting unable to make eye contact and sighed. "I think you need to give it time Reid, to settle back in. If you need more time off I will understand."

Suddenly Spencer's eyes locked with Aarons. "You will never understand. That's the problem."

The eyes searching Aaron's soul made him feel uncomfortable and he looked away from the young hurting agent and looked at the door. "You are cleared for office work. You just need to sign this to say I have spoken to you, and you can go." Hotch slid a bit of paper across the desk at Reid.

By the time Reid had signed the form and returned to his desk Derek had arrived and it was at that point that Reid realised that he couldn't do this. His safe family, his place in the world, his reason for being here was gone.

…………………

The men's room. A place to think without being watched. He hated the way people looked at him now. Waiting for him to do something odd. Looking for the signs, but he wasn't going to let them see.

Spencer stood and looked at his face in the mirror. He could see his cheek bones clearer than he had a couple of weeks ago. He needed to be careful. The last thing he needed was for them to take this from him too. Slowly he ran a finger down the side of his face and looked at the darkness around his eyes. He could say all the right things in a psych evaluation, but he couldn't disguise this look. He tucked his hair behind his ears and ran the tap filling his hands with water. A voice behind him made him jump.

"We need to talk about things." It was Morgan. His stomach tied in knots as he had a flashback of the gun in Morgan's hand.

"You have nothing to say that I want to hear." Reid turned to look at the man who was once his friend.

"I haven't explained." Morgan took a step closer. He wanted to comfort his friend. Say the right things to him. "I need to explain."

Reid wiped his wet hands on the side of his trouser legs. "To ease a guilty conscience? I am not really interested in your explanations."

"Reid." And he stepped forwards again wanting to physically reach out for Reid but Spencer pushed past him and walked towards the men's room door. He wanted to scream at him, to hit out at him, and unleash some of this pain on him, but that would look bad. He had to stay calm and in control, and right now, right this minute, he could only think of one thing to do.

Spencer took to the bullpen at a run and tripping up the steps and falling to his knees he was at a virtual crawl when he made it to the comparative haven of Hotch's office. He burst through the door and slammed in hard behind him. Hotch was talking to someone on the phone and looked over at the sweating hyperventilating Spencer.

"I will have to call you back. Something's come up." And he put the phone down. "Reid, what's wrong?" He sounded like he cared. Almost like the old Hotch, he stood and went to the door Reid was leaning on and locked it. "Come and sit down."

"Hotch – I said I wouldn't freak. I think I just did." He was trying to control the breaths, taking them deeper, getting more oxygen to his brain.

A gentle hand on Reid's arm. "Please Spencer, come and sit."

But the closeness and that smell of comfort and security was over whelming. Reid leaned forwards and rested his forehead on Aaron's shoulder. He just wanted to be held. To feel safe.

"I need to go. Hotch, I'm not ready for this."

"You faked your psych evaluation. I don't want you back here until you are ready. You need counselling. You must talk to Morgan."

Reid lifted his head and leaned back on the door again. "He killed him Hotch. He was trying to stop me and he killed him."

Aaron nodded and walked to the couch leaving Reid at the door. Hopefully he would follow. "I have read the report. It looked like he was trying to push you out of the window. He had hold of you. You were trying to get away and the window was about to break. Morgan did what he felt was necessary."

Reid's eyes dropped to the floor. "No matter how many times I look at this, and whatever angle I take on this, it boils down to the same thing." He walked over to the couch and sat. "I failed and I am finding it hard to come to terms with the results of my failure, Hotch. Someone is dead because of me. He was protecting us Aaron and Morgan killed him."

"Go home Reid. Take another week. Book an appointment. Talk to someone."

Go home. Was that it? Spencer stood up and walked back to the door quickly unlocking it and closing it quietly behind him. Aaron sat and looked at the door close and it broke his heart. He needed to help him, but didn't know how. Emotions weren't his strong point.

………………

At home at last. He closed his main door and locked it and then set the alarm. He hung his messenger bag up on a hook in the hallway and shrugged off his jacket, leaving it laying on the floor. His first stop was the kitchen. He moved quickly to the fridge and pulled out a tub of chocolate ice cream and a spoon and moved quickly to his lounge and chair. He dumped the tub of ice cream on the coffee table and the moved to the heavy drapes which he pulled tightly shut and then returned to his chair and sat with his feet on the chair and his ice cream nestled on his lap. He ate it fast. Almost not stopping to breathe between mouthfuls. All his concentration was focused on that tub of ice cream and the small metal spoon. Eyes glazed over in ecstasy of the feeling of so much going down his throat so fast. It was almost making him gag, but the quicker it went down the more he needed. When it was finished he dropped the tub and spoon to the floor and went back to the kitchen.

He sat with a bag of candy bars on his lap and carefully started to unwrap.

Unwrap one at a time. Eat as fast as you can. Unwrap.

Unwrap the next. Eat. Drop rubbish on the floor. The need to eat. Alone, in secret. Away from everyone else. Carefully unwrapping.

Unwrap the next one and roll the foil and paper. Eat.

Unwrap the next one and hold and twist the foil and paper and then eat.

Unwrap the final one. Deep dark rich chocolate melting and sticking to his fingers. He lifted his fingers slowly to his mouth and licked and sucked the last bits of chocolate off them and then sat and looked at the mess.

……………….

Spencer sat in his chair until it was dark outside. How many hours? He wasn't really sure, but now he needed to go and sort himself out. He walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Then put a folded towel on the floor in front of the toilet. Carefully he laid out all the things he would need after the shower, some sweat pants and a t-shirt he would wear for his night time vigil and his tooth brush and tooth paste ready loaded. Then he went back to the kitchen and heated up the water in the kettle.

Reid poured salt into a glass, and then covered it with hot water. He stirred it until the salt was dissolved and topped the glass up with cold tap water. He walked a bit slower now to the bathroom. This routine was his. This was what was holding him together. Something he was in control of and no one else. Nothing to disturb him. No one to interfere. He knelt on the folded towel and put the glass of warm salty water to his mouth. It would be vile but that was the whole point. He drank it back quickly then leant over the toilet bowl and emptied his stomach. Spencer's back hurt with the strain, his ribs hurt, his throat burned, and he cried. He cried and sobbed and said sorry and vomited the ice cream and chocolate which was so nice when he ate it, but now left a foul bitter taste in his mouth.

How long had he been there for? He wasn't sure, but the shower was running cold now. No matter. A cold shower would wake him up again and stop him falling and twisting in his dreams.

Reid showered and slipped into the slightly too big for him sweats, and cleaned his teeth until his gums bled. Then slowly he walked to his bed room and lay on the bed one arm across his chest, the other thrown above his head on his pillow.

He lay like this until finally the shadows pulled him down again and he was spinning and twisting and holding a hand trying to do it right. Just once.

…………………