Author's Note: Huh . . . I was just thinking back . . . do any of you remember back when this thing started, like, forever ago, and I was estimating no more than 15 chapters, all in all?
o.0
Well, didn't happen, obviously. But I can safely say now that, after this, there is only going to be one more chapter left. And then I must kiss my beautiful babies goodbye, and move on to writing something slashy . . . it's been far too long of a wait for some goopey Morgan-Reid goodness.
But I'm babbling. As always, thank ya s'much to my ever-wonderful and loyal reviewers, and to all those who have read, favorited, and followed since last I updated. You guys make writing this better and better each time.
Next week, we meet for the last time. But in the meanwhile, have another chapter.
Warnings: This story is rated T for drug use, violence, language, and adult thinking. Spoilers for seasons 1 – 2 of Heroes. Spoilers for seasons 1 – 2 of Criminal Minds.
Disclaimer: Put it this way; the recipe is mine, but the ingredients and tools were borrowed from some kindly neighbor.
I'm not going to ask for reviews, because I can't guarantee I'll answer them all. But any thoughts are always appreciated, if not required.
Do enjoy!
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Abyss Looks Also Into You
Reid just stared at his friend.
Listening in?
"Listening in? Into what?" His eyes darkened. "Are you going to explain why you – why – ?" He stuttered, faltering. "Why – why you lied to me?"
Aching flashed across his face, Peter moved a bit closer to Spencer, his eyes never breaking contact. He gulped, bringing in a full breath. "Spencer . . . I didn't lie to you."
Reid shook his head fiercely. "You did, you – y-you made me think I was safe from Sylar!"
The shout was more panicked than angry, and Peter couldn't help but notice the faint tremble in Reid's voice when he yelled.
He leaned forward, cupping Reid's shoulders in his hands, ignoring the way his friend stiffened under the touch.
"You are safe, Spence. He's – Sylar's . . . Sylar's in a coma right now."
Reid's eyes flickered, troubled. "What?"
" . . . I put him in an advanced . . . I dunno . . . dream state, I guess." Peter shrugged, frowning thoughtfully. "He's locked inside of his own mind . . . will be for a few days. It's not a permanent thing!" He interjected, seeing the horrified look on Reid's face. "I didn't kill him, he will wake up . . . But by that time, the Company will have heard of his arrest, and they'll come to take him to a special facility where he won't be able to use his powers to hurt anyone anymore . . . or ever again, for that matter."
Reid watched him plainly. "You . . . you really believe that?"
Peter nodded, weary. "I know it. Stronger men than Gabriel Gray have been held by those people, and no one ever escapes."
". . . Except you."
Peter never wanted to think of his experience at the hands of the Bishops again. "I was lucky; I got real close with one of my . . . captors . . ." he gulped, clearly uncomfortable, and shook his head as he continued, "and anyway, they thought I was too naïve to try anything. No one will underestimate Sylar that way, Spence, I promise. He's there, and the only way he's coming out is either in a body bag or so deficient in his powers that he might as well be dead." Peter shook his head. "You're safe, Spence, I promise. I wouldn't allow it any other way." His grip tightened, squeezing, comforting.
Reid gazed at him, wanting so much to believe . . . But can it really be that simple?
" . . . I promise, Spencer."
Something soft flickered in Reid's eyes, then, and he smiled for the first time in what felt like entirely too long, saying wryly. "You're really going to have to stop doing that – reading my mind, I mean."
Peter returned the expression faintly. "Couldn't if I wanted to," he chuckled.
At that, Reid remembered, and he frowned. "Why did you have to take us out of time? I could have asked them to leave, and we could have talked in private . . ."
Peter scoffed. "Something tells that your dear Morgan wouldn't be too keen on that idea, Spence."
Reid bit his lower lip. "I'll talk to him, Peter, I'll – " He was cut off by the other man shaking his head dispiritedly.
"That's what I was saying. You might not need to."
Now Reid was curious. "What?"
Peter frowned very slightly, chewing the inside of his cheek. "I told you about the Haitian . . ." He trailed off, and it took Reid a moment to realize that he expected an answer.
Haitian . . . the one who takes people's powers away . . .
"Yes," the genius replied steadily.
Peter nodded, not even looking as though he was listening very well. "See, the thing I didn't know was . . . well, his powers aren't just like some sort of vacuum that makes people human again."
Reid looked at him blankly, and Peter chewed his lip, trying to put it into words. "He has control over the mind, Spencer. Some sort of prefrontal connection with our center cortex . . . Like, he's a puppet master, and our cerebral functions are all . . . marionettes . . ."
The shudder that ran down Reid's spine at the notion did not go unnoticed, and Peter swallowed before continuing, trying to be the strong one for once.
"He . . . When I was on the run from the Bishops' facility, he was one of the ones they sent after me. Actually . . . he was the one who caught me. And when he did, I thought – I t-thought I was going back to the prison, back to them and their judgment and their poking and their prodding, forever again . . . I thought I was going to die there . . . Alone." Peter's voice trembled, giving away his inner turmoil.
Reid spoke hesitantly, afraid to crush the moment. "What did he do to you, Pete?"
"He let me go."
The thought of it still confused Peter to this very day.
"He . . . he said that they would always be chasing me, always be after me and the people I loved, because I had something . . . "
"Your abilities."
Peter nodded. "I fucking hate them sometimes, Spencer. I really do." He sighed. "He . . . the Haitain took my memories away from me. He just – t-touched my forehead, and suddenly, it was dark and I couldn't remember who I was."
"That was your amnesia?" It hurt Reid to even think of his friend, someone he so treasured and looked up to and cared for, being subjected to that, being so scared.
"Right," Peter's tone was hushed, subdued. He was lost in his thoughts, trapped in the pain of his past.
It was a long moment before he spoke again, shaking his head firmly.
"Whatever. It's the past, and I'm not going to mess with it. No point crying about something I don't have it in me to change."
There was a certain self-directed bitterness in the man's words, and Reid winced at how hollow his friend sounded. Peter, meanwhile, shrugged it off, still trying so very hard to be . . .
. . . brave.
"What I was saying was . . . well, when . . . When he took my memories, he had to . . . you know . . . he had to come into contact with me."
Reid furrowed his brow, still not quite getting it. Peter sighed.
"Physical contact. We touched, and made that connection for him to use his powers, and . . . and in so doing, we activated mine, too. I – I copied him, and . . . and . . ."
Reid suddenly know what he was going to reveal before his best friend could even get the words out.
Still, he said them eventually, nonetheless.
"I have his power, Spence. Control of the mind, and all the wonderful things it can do."
Reid nodded slowly, taking it in, and it pained Peter desperately.
Please, please don't make me have to say it.
Except it looked like he did.
"Spencer, if you want . . . I could . . . I could erase this – all of this." Peter gestured around the room, to everyone's frozen expressions and motionless bodies, like some sort of demented family photo. Morgan's anger, Hotch's reluctance, Gideon's probing, JJ's concern, Garcia's determination, Emily's discomfort – all of it sealed in a way that could very well be forever upon their visages. It nearly broke Reid's heart to look around and see it again. He turned, instead, to his best friend, the realization dawning on him then.
"You could . . . you could make them forget."
Peter's eyes were boring into him. "Not just them."
Reid had to pause.
He doesn't mean . . .
"I could – I could erase every painful thing from your mind, Spence." Peter spoke slowly, gently, like he would with one of his own patients, back in a life long-past. Or the way he would talk with just someone he loved. "I could . . . I mean, no . . . No more Sylar, no more . . . no more Hankel . . ."
He wouldn't be offering to do this if he didn't love Spencer.
And deep down, the genius knew that. But it did nothing to quell the surge of indignant ire that flared up inside of him.
"No more them . . . and no more you?" Reid asked derisively, a flicker of anger in those usually fey eyes that had his best friend flinching back.
Peter shook his head. "I would hope not, Spence, of course not! But I just – I just can't stand to see you hurting. I don't want you to have to relive everything any of those sons of bitches put you through." He shrugged, feigning nonchalance when it was really all the man could do not to seize his friend up and hold him tight and shelter him from a world far too harsh for someone so gentle and kind and good. "Your memory – "
"My memory means that I don't get to forget it, not that I'm forever reliving it," Reid said, shocking himself by the level of fury pulsing beneath his voice. "I'm remembering it, recalling it – it's going to be part of who I am, not something that I do."
Peter took yet another step closer, plying – pleading. "Spence, some things are horrible, awful, evil – you – y-you of all people should know that. I'm just trying . . . I'm offering you the chance to – "
"To take away my memories, and my teams'? To pretend that none of this ever happened? To start over, clean slate, no strings attached, new start and hazzah for all?" Reid's voice was quaking with emotion.
"This isn't a video game, Peter, life doesn't work like that – "
"Don't you think I know that?!" Peter finally exploded, feeling only a little bad when Reid jolted from the noise.
"Of all the people to lecture about this – ! Goddamnit, Spence, I had my memories removed, too – and because of that, I wound up losing someone else that I love. She got trapped somewhere along in the future when I was still recovering my powers, and since I came back without her, I have no way to save her and I – I –" Peter was gasping for air now, months' worth of pain finally catching up to him. "I would give anything to forget I even knew Katie, just so I don't have to wake up with this hole inside of my chest every morning, wishing she was here and safe and sound, and then . . .and then hating myself for being the reason that she's not." When he looked at Spencer again, his eyes were dull, having again locked away the pain that he refused to let himself feel.
Especially in front of other people.
Peter reached up to swipe the hair that had fallen in his face out of his eyes, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt fingers, warm and tentative, lightly grasping his wrist, as though afraid he would lash out. He looked over, and saw Reid watching him from shadowed features, taking him in and trying to understand.
"You don't want to forget, Peter. Trust me. Please. When – w-when it comes down to it, our memories are the only thing that make us different from everyone around us. And – and even if they're painful, they're our pain, part of us. You might want to lose the hurting parts, but . . . but they're parts, nonetheless. You may not want them, but you need them."
Peter whispered, "I deserve them."
Reid shook his head, devastation in his eyes. "No, Peter. No. Not even the worst kind of people deserve the pain you've had to go through. No one does. But trying to forget your problems is the exact same thing as running from them. And you're not a runner – you're a fighter." Reid's fingers tightened briefly on that last word, and Peter couldn't help but smile back, eyes watery and clouded with doubt.
"We both should be," the genius added quietly, solidifying his testament and dedication to his best friend.
Peter held still, trying to draw in from the marveling amount of strength that this young man before him truly possessed. When he spoke, not even the doubt he felt could override the awe in his voice.
"You're really . . . You're really going to choose to remember all of this?" Peter asked in a hushed tone, part of him praying that Spencer wouldn't, part of him praying that he would.
Reid shook his head, somehow knowing what his friend was thinking, even without the same abilities. "Are you?" He quipped, his eyes flickering nervously.
Peter looked around again, at all of the people frozen beside them, thinking.
A lack of memory was emptiness. No feelings, no guilt, no hopes or desires or tepid little dreams. Full dark, no stars.
What he had now was surge after surge of pain. Agonizing lash after lash of cruel memory digging into him, forcing him to recall every detail on his loved one's faces as they had been torn from the life they so desperately treasured, so loved and needed . . . His father, Charles Deveaux, Simone, Katie . . . thousands of people he'd never met, but whose dreams he'd heard when his telepathy got out of control . . .
It was a roller-coaster of sadness and anger, and an endless cycle of every different from of pain.
But what made him pause, what made Peter stop in his morbidity for just a split second before responding was Reid's voice.
Reid. Spencer Reid.
Best friend, brother . . . someone he loved.
A voice of reason. A reason to live.
Live with the memories.
Because for every jolt of pain in his body at remembering someone's death-clouded eyes, there was an image of the genius smiling. For every terrible word and piercing scream echoing in his ears, there was the sound of Reid's laughter. For ever ghost of a hand that had toughed him or kissed him or nearly knocked his lights out, there was the warm steadiness of long, slender fingers tightly gripping him back to Earth, right here, right now.
Reality. A mix of everything wonderful and awful and just of potent life itself.
He could forget, start over, and someday wonder why his life had begun just before thirty . . .
Or he could accept this gift, every awful, perfect thing about it, and spend the rest of his endless days trying to make the most of the shining good bits in his life.
In the end, there wasn't really a choice at all.
If Spencer jumped, then so he would too.
"Not without you," he finally whispered, the faint hint of reluctance on his voice evident even to Spencer.
And a breath that neither of them knew they had been holding whooshed out collectively from both men, their relief mingling in a single second of exhale.
Peter broke the silence first.
He gestured to the rest of the BAU. "Do you want to give them your statement, have them submit the paperwork, and then I could – I could make sure that they never looked at you with pity, or anything like that again?"
Reid shook his head, still coming down from everything of the last few minutes. "Family doesn't do that to each other, Peter," he frowned. "And I meant what I said earlier – I'm going to need them. All of them." He glanced up through the light locks of hair that had drifted into his eyes. "And you, Pete."
His friend smiled grimly. "And me?"
Reid nodded, a hint of a grin somehow finding its way onto his face. "Everything you can offer. The good, and the bad . . . and the ugly, of course."
Peter just stared at him.
What the – ? "Oh, so little Pretty-Boy has jokes now, hm?"
"Sometimes. That's what Morgan says, too."
Peter stilled. "You guys are pretty close."
Reid sensed what he was asking, and surprised the Hell out of Peter when he reached out to grab his wrist. They were best friends, of course – but Spencer wasn't one to initiate physical contact. Ever.
"He's a good friend, Peter. You're my best friend. He's my teammate. You're my brother. He takes me out to 'have' a life. You let me keep mine . . . Yes, we're close, and I fully intend for it to stay that way. But he's not you, and he never will be."
Peter hated to admit how much he had needed to hear those words, how they reassured him. He sighed, letting out a breath of air he didn't know that he'd been holding in, and met Reid's eyes once more.
"I won't touch them, Spence. I just . . . the offer still stands, you know? Forever and always. And a day."
Reid shook his head. "I love you, Pete, and . . . and I know you're trying to help, but . . ." his gaze turned steely. "But you of all people should know the horror of having to forget something that you never wanted to. To have something timeless ripped away unwillingly." His voice caught. "I can't let you do that to them. To me."
Peter sat down on the edge of Reid's bed. "Okay, Spence, I . . ." He paused, and then nodded resolutely. "Okay. I won't touch them. Ever."
The genius looked up. "And me?"
Peter cracked a smile. "Only you're being particularly annoying."
Reid couldn't help but laugh at that.
Same Peter as always.
He looked around the room then, at all of his teammates still frozen in the middle of moving. For just a moment, he allowed himself to be fascinated by the way the taut muscles in Derek's arm were strained and pulling tight, by JJ's hair that was frozen in mid-motion swinging above her shoulder, and the sparkle that was still shining away in Prentiss's features, before . . .
He turned to Peter. "Can you, ah . . . can you un-stop time now, please? They're kind of – they're k-kind of creeping me out at this point."
Peter laughed. "You don't want to draw any Sharpie mustaches on Misters Too-Big-For-Their-Britches?" he asked, indicating Morgan and Hotch with a small sweep of his arm.
Thought still smiling, Reid shook his head. "I think not, Pete. They have enough authority without the ridiculous upper-lip hair." Peter nodded, and Reid added as an afterthought, "Besides, Morgan's already trying to get me back for a prank from a bit earlier."
Peter raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Reid blushed. "It's, ah . . . I'll tell you later." No I won't.
Peter just grinned. "Yes, you will," he said assuredly, before grasping Reid's hand fully and closing his eyes hard.
After a second of what looked like intense – if not painful – concentration, Peter snapped back to attention, and Reid looked up just in time to see everything in the room come back to life. JJ continued on her little walk over to Spencer's bedside, Garcia let out a sneeze she had been apparently holding in, and Hotch was glancing warily at Peter, almost as if somehow, impossibly, knowing something abnormal had just gone down.
. . .
"We can let you have a little more time, Reid. Get yourself situated . . . " the Unit Chief ground out, as though nothing strange had just happened at all. Which, technically, for him, it hadn't. Reid looked at him once more, and then shook his head.
"I'm ready, Hotch. Let's go." His tone was soft, wavery . . . but somehow so much steadier that it had been just a second ago.
It wasn't the first time that the Unit Chief had stopped the marvel at their youngest agent's hidden strength.
There was a small beeping noise then, and Hotch quickly checked his phone, a frown blooming on his face. "Just a moment," he said, holding the phone out to JJ, who quickly scanned the screen, her eyes growing wider as she read.
She looked at the Unit Chief. "I'll call the station, and ask them what happened." She quickly exited the room, giving Spencer a brief hug and promising to be back soon. Peter held up his hands in a sort of faux salute to the blonde as she exited, and turned to watch her leave. Once gone, he returned his gaze to find everyone watching him expectantly. He shrugged off all of their looks, and instead focused on the only one of them he truly cared about.
"I can go and get us some coffee," he said to Reid, who shook his head immediately, eyes shining with emotion.
"No, Peter, it's okay – go home to your family, they'll be wanting to hear from you – " he paused when Peter shot out a hand and clamped onto his shoulder.
"Spence," the other man said slowly, but affectionately, "My mother and brother are doing fine without me for a little while. You're my family too, and I think you're the one most in need of some coffee right now."
Reid didn't want to admit how happy those words made him. He knew he was important to Peter – Hell, if nothing else, these past few days had certainly proved that. But there was something tremendously comforting about hearing Peter say that he was his family – brothers, they'd always joked – and that he wanted to stay with him.
Peter could see the relief and consent written across the genius's face, and he couldn't help but smile a bit.
Maybe things would never be the same as they were, but that didn't mean they would be anything unpleasant.
Taking a final second to give Spencer a brief, one-armed hug, Peter turned slowly and confidently and walked out of the room, shooting Hotch a look that clearly said to take it easy on his friend.
No stranger to unspoken communication, Hotch gave a single nod of his head, the expression on his face might have been one of calculation, might have been spiteful – but instead, to Peter, it almost looked gratifying. Like the man was thanking him for keeping Reid calm and not abandoning him, but also for vacating the room peacefully.
Peter shook his head. Humans, he thought ruefully, as he made his way onto the elevator.
Silly people.
Author's Endnote: That whole story about Peter losing someone he loved during time-travel? It was from Heroes, Season Two; after losing his memory and fleeing from the captivity of the Bishops, Peter winds up in Ireland, where (following a few pissing contests), he sort of gets in with a gang offset of Valhalla, and winds up majorly falling for the gang-leader's younger sister Kaitlynn. However, as he slowly regains his memory, full use of his powers begins to return, and Peter accidentally takes himself and Katie to a horrible, terrible future where 90% of the world has died. And, distraught over all of this, Peter accidentally travels back into the current time when he and Kaitlynn are separated, unfortunately leaving the girl behind. Once back int eh past, he changes the future, and thus . . . the love of his life is completely lost to him.
It's such a sad storyline, and never got resolved. Personally, I think Peter is a lot like the Reid of Heroes; family drama, no love of his life, and a pension for getting whumped just a tiny bit. Not that I don't totally dig that shit; it just makes me cry.
