28

Lose Yourself

"I beat you, you son of a bitch," I breathed, still laughing lightly. "Who's the Good Boy now, huh? Huh? WHO'S THE GOOD BOY NOW?" I leaned against the wall, tears in my eyes but still chortling.

Then the door burst open next to me.

I turned as quickly as I could, pointing the gun at the door. It may not have been loaded, but the person coming in didn't know that, did they? I wouldn't be hurt again. No one would do this to me again, no, no, I was done. I would do everything I could to make damn sure of that. I'd rather die.

"DON'T MOVE!" I screamed as soon as I saw movement. "DON'T MOVE, OR I SWEAR TO GOD, I'LL-"

"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, Kid, it's me! It's Morgan!" He said, lowering his own weapon.

Morgan…MORGAN!

"Morgan?" My voice was shaking again.

"Yeah, it's alright. Gimme the gun, Kid."

"I…It's empty," I said, tossing it aside.

As soon as I did he hugged me as tightly as he could.

Everything came to a head at that point. I realized what I had done. I killed him, I killed him… I thought I was going to die, but here I was, and I remembered how to cry.

I hugged Morgan back, sobbing against his shoulder. "I, I killed him Morgan," I sobbed. "I-, I-…"

"It's alright, it's alright. Shh…" he soothed. "God, Kid, we thought we lost you."

"I th-thought he was going to… I thought…"

"Shh…" He wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. Dignity… I could have that again.

"Morgan?" Someone called.

"In here!" I looked up when J.J. came in. She stared at me for a beat before running toward me. She hugged me close, touching the back of my head and neck as if to make sure I was really there.

"Spence," she breathed, hugging me impossibly tighter. "You're okay, you're okay…" Okay wasn't the word I would've used. Alive, maybe. Okay… no, no definitely not okay.

I didn't even see that the others had come in until she let me go. They were looking from Master's body to me to the gun, obviously shocked.

Emily hugged me too, and it took a few minutes for her to let me go. I cried harder for some reason I didn't understand when Gideon held me.

"Never again," he said quietly, shaking his head and looking at me steadily. "Never again, alright?" I nodded, sniffing.

Hotch surprised me. I didn't expect him to hug me, but he did, tighter than everyone else had.

"You disappear like that again and you're fired, understand?" He said, his voice shaking with relief.

"I won't," I croaked. "I-I want to go home… please."

"We're going," Hotch nodded. "We have to take you to the hospital and then we'll be on our way, alright?" I looked at the floor, blinking a few times. "What's wrong?"

"I…I don't want to go in an am-ambulance again," I said softly. "I d-don't want people touching me again…"


Edenton General Hospital

They didn't make me go in an ambulance. I sat in the back of one of the SUVs, my face buried in J.J.'s shoulder as she held me. It was around this time that I realized how much everything hurt, which was probably why they were looking at me that way. I'm sure the bruises on my throbbing face were a sight.

I was scared. I was scared that killing Master was a dream. I was gonna wake up with him over me, touching me, hurting me, telling me to scream and beg and-

"Shh…it's okay, Spence. It's alright," J.J. soothed.

The hospital was just as bad as before. There were hands, everywhere, taking my pulse, drawing blood, telling me to turn over, asking me questions I didn't want to answer, so I didn't. They were angry with me, but I didn't care. It was horrible enough to have the memories flooding my mind every time I closed my eyes, I didn't want to have to explain it to a group of strangers.

They transferred me to a room after that. I was shivering the whole way, looking around for someone I knew. Someone who wouldn't let me do this alone.

"It's alright, Kid," I looked up at Morgan, relief flooding through me. "You're gonna be okay."


In all my years of working in the medical field, there was never a patient wanted to see less than this boy right here.

The first time had been bad enough, in fact the first time was horrible. And now… now I think it was worse. He was staring at the ceiling, his face bruised deeply. The dried blood had been wiped away, but the gashes and scrapes and tears were still there.

That wasn't what bothered me the most. What bothered me were his eyes. That hollow, saddened, lost look that reminded me of someone that had seen too much in a short amount of time. He was just a baby. Someone that young didn't need to have that look. I wondered if he'd ever be able to recover from this.

But that wasn't my job right now. My job was to make sure this poor baby was alright…physically anyway.

"Hey there," I smiled. He jumped, looking up at me. "It's alright, it's okay. You remember me?" He nodded slowly. God those eyes…

I smiled again. "Alright, well I'm just gonna take a look at you to make sure you can go home, sweetie. Is that okay?" He nodded slowly, glancing at his friend sitting next to him. I smiled falsely at him and he nodded back. I turned my attention back to the boy in front of me.

"Alright, now just hold still, honey."

The contusions and bruises that I had seen and treated before were nearly healed now. But new ones had formed. Though there were less than before, these were deeper, darker, and much more violent than before.

The handprints on his hips were blue. The bruises on his thighs were a deep purple. His body had been ravaged and torn with horrible rage. God, he was just a kid.

I cleaned, stitched and bound the bullet wound on his shoulder, knowing that the scratches around it were from human fingernails.

"Alright, Spencer," I said, blinking tears out of my eyes. "You can go home, sweetie. You're gonna be okay. Just take it easy, alright?" He nodded and sat up, his arms shaking as he pushed himself up.

He looked at Morgan, his eyes pleading and sad. "C-can we go?" He asked so quietly I could barely hear him.

"Yeah, Kid," he nodded. "We can go."

He helped the young man stand and guided him toward the door.

"I'll be there in just a sec, okay?" He said. Spencer nodded, adjusting the hospital issued white T-shirt he was wearing before folding his arms over his chest and walking away with the blonde woman he had come in with.

"Is he gonna be alright?" Morgan asked. I nodded.

"He might get a mild fever again, but other than that he should heal up just fine," I assured. "The son of a bitch that did that to him is dead, right?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling.

"Good," I said. He started to walk away. "Agent Morgan," he turned, "Could you tell Marybelle she's fired?"

"Yeah," Morgan chuckled. "Can do."

I sighed when he was gone, praying as hard as I could that that poor baby would be home soon.


Garcia didn't let Spencer go for five minutes when they got back, and when she finally did she wouldn't let him leave her sight.

Hotch handled the usual procedure of thanking the officers and Detective Arnold and making sure the plane was ready.

Spencer was asleep five minutes after they had taken off. He hadn't slept since they had taken him from that room. He ate sparingly, telling Emily he wasn't hungry when she asked.

They were all keeping a close watch on him, making sure that his mental state would be alright. None of them were sure if he could recover from this. A normal human being wouldn't be able to in a million years, but Spencer was strong, he could endure just fine…the first time. Now they weren't so sure. He had to go through everything he was afraid of all over again. Being beaten, shot, cut, screamed at and raped all over again.

What made matters worse was every single one of them had promised it wouldn't happen, that he was safe and he couldn't get to him. They had been blatantly proven wrong. He hadn't spoken much, didn't engage in conversations, didn't even pay attention to them. Most times when they looked he was staring at the floor, face blank and unreadable.

Unlike before, when they asked him if he was alright he shook his head. Every time. He looked so tired, so worn, so…done. The dark circles were far worse, much darker. His eyes held…nothing. Just nothing. It was awful to see, and even more painful to realize that there wasn't much they could do but be there for him.

Gideon was watching him sleep, lost in thought on the couch opposite him.

"You think he'll be alright?" Hotch asked quietly.

"I don't know," he said truthfully. "It depends on just how much damage Harrington did." Hotch nodded.

"So what's gonna happen when we get back? As much as I want to help Reid we can't put the other cases on hold."

"We'll figure something out. It'll take some time, but we'll be able to help him. There is one thing we have to do first."

"What's that?" Hotch frowned. Gideon sighed.

"We have to tell his mother."