Told ya I'd get chapter four up fast - how dare you doubt me (if you did, I totally get it, historically I've been a once-a-year update kind of gal). Anyway, thank you for your continued support!

Bad Memories Ch. 04

Reid was back in his apartment. He paced as he thought about how much he'd revealed to his boss. He had shed his coat and tie but he still felt like he was overheating. He'd been attending NA meetings ever since he was release from prison. His three month stint behind bars might have been a blessing after being drugged by Lindsey in Mexico. Although the circumstances made it difficult to enjoy the high forced upon him, it did bring back old tremors and urges he thought he'd gotten over years before.

He didn't want to reveal that he had actually relapsed after Emily had supposedly died, but during their confrontation he felt trapped. He regretted it now and wished he had bit his tongue and just let her verbal assault continue. His mind went back to June of 2011 when he would go over to JJ's house and just let it all out with his head in his hands and JJ's comforting presence beside him on her living room sofa.

***flashback***

Spencer left JJ's house, feeling completely empty after releasing more tears he'd ever thought anyone was capable of producing. JJ had offered to drive him home but he declined - telling her the short walk in the warm, breezy June weather would help clear his head. It was late and his mind did not clear. He passed his apartment and found himself in a familiar bar just outside the downtown area. He wandered up to the bar and ordered a drink. That's when he heard her heavenly purr,

"Spencer? Long time no see. Almost didn't recognize you with short hair," he looked to his left and saw Amber. He wasn't sure she would still be here after all this time but he was glad she was. Amber took in Spencer's red-rimmed eye and messy hair and pouted, "what's wrong? Did a girl break your heart?" Reid rubbed a hand over his face and retorted,

"Something like that." his tone was devoid of emotion. Amber offered, taking advantage of the agent in his vulnerable state,

"You know, I could help give you a little escape from whatever's got you down," Reid was silent, weighing out his options. He was desperate to feel good again, he hadn't felt anything but grief since Emily had died a month ago. He hadn't been sleeping, hadn't been eating properly, he couldn't even focus on work or reading. He needed this. Amber held out a hand and he took it as she led him to the back of the bar to finalize the transaction.

Back at his apartment, it was now about 2:00am. He stood facing the bathroom mirror, his left shirt sleeve rolled up above the elbow. Although he had made it as far as to tie off his arm and fill the syringe, hadn't fully decided what he was going to do. All he could do was think about his team which led to thoughts of Emily and that led to feelings of complete and utter agony. He took the syringe in hand and with practiced precision, aligned it with a prominent vein and succumbed to bliss he had been missing in the five years he'd been sober.

When he awoke it was Saturday, he had the day off. It took him a few minutes to realize what he'd done the night before. He thought he should feel shame or as if he had failed, but all he could feel was relief. Maintaining sobriety proved only to cause anxiety - the constant fear of "will I be able to keep this up?" or "when will I crash and burn", but now that he had no facade to uphold, he felt free.

A few weeks went by and he'd stopped going to JJ's house. In the evenings when the depression hit the most he's stay home and self-medicate. This became increasingly difficult to hide from his teammates given he'd often come in to work late and disappear during cases. It was Hotch who had noticed Spencer's behavior went beyond lasting grief and resembled a behavior he'd seen before in the young doctor after a certain case in Georgia. After they'd returned home from a case - of which Reid had been both mentally and, at times, physically absent from - the unit chief asked his youngest agent to meet him in his office before heading home.

"Reid, you've been increasingly distant and it's beginning to show in your work. Do you want to tell me what's going on?" Hotch asked, knowing he wasn't going to get a direct answer at first. Reid knew his drug use was affecting his job performance and he worried it would come to this. He had tried to wane himself off but he was well in the throes of his addiction now and there seemed to be no end in sight. Reid responded,

"I've just been a little sick lately, I might need to take some time off to -" Hotch was watching the young man's shaking hands and bouncing knee. Reid noticed as he completed his thought, "- get better". Hotch was wise to what he meant. Reid needed to go away for as long as he needed in order to get back to normal. Hotch agreed,

"I think that's a really good idea. I'll submit the paperwork - I want you take whatever time you need and come back to us ready to work at full capacity. We need you on this team." Reid looked up at his boss and saw the sincerity in his normally stoic features. Hotch thought to himself, "man this is bad". Not just because one of his teammate was depressed and using drugs, but because the reason for his depression was a fabricated lie. Emily was alive and Aaron knew he couldn't tell Reid without jeopardizing her safety. He would just have to deal with each issue one at a time.

Reid went home and tried to distract himself from the ever-present longing to dull his senses. He tried all the things he used to find so much joy in; reading, watching foreign films, playing chess, writing to his mom - nothing quelled the insatiable need growing inside him. After only making it a few hours, he broke down and gave in to his temptations and revisited Amber. With no work to worry about, he abused the time given to him to get clean and instead went on a complete bender.

Three days later no one had heard from him. Hotch told his team Reid was taking a sabbatical to work on a scholarly essay he was submitting to a scientific journal and to reset after all the team had been through. That last detail made it a little more believable to the team. They, too, had noticed a change in their typically talkative doctor. Hotch called Reid's cell everyday and at first he just thought he might need space while he's getting himself right, but after three days he needed to go check on his agent to make sure all was well. Hotch knocked on Reid's door but got no answer,

"Reid, it's Hotch. I need you to open the door," still no answer. In case of emergency, Reid had given Hotch a spare key to his apartment. Hotch didn't like the idea of invading Spencer's privacy, but he didn't like the idea of Spencer being in trouble more. Hotch entered the apartment and observed its disorderly state. Books were scattered on the floor and coffee mugs were left unattended on various surfaces. The door to what Hotch assumed was Reid's bedroom was ajar.

"Reid?" Hotch carefully approached. He pushed to door open to see his agent lying haphazardly on the bed, sheets strewn about, used needles and empty vials of dilaudid sat on the bedside table. Hotch went over to the young man, cursing at himself for leaving him alone in this state. He checked for a pulse and found one - it was faint, but it was there. He inspected Reid's arm and had to look away from the unsightly array of track marks, old and new. It nearly brought the unit chief to tears.

About an hour and a half later, Hotch had cleaned up the place while Spencer slept. He'd washed the dishes, tidied the living room, and thoroughly disposed of any drug paraphernalia he could find hidden in the apartment. He went to check on Reid and the sound of the door opening made the younger man stir,

"Reid? Are you up?" Hotch asked gently. Reid was groggy but still startled by the other man being in his room. He squinted to make out the figure,

"Hotch? What are you doing here? How'd you get in here?" He questioned. Hotch didn't answer, instead challenging,

"Do you know what day it is?" Reid looked at the window and saw that the sun was out, he stood up as he guessed,

"Tuesday?" Hotch sighed,

"It's Thursday. I've been trying to get ahold of you for three days. You're telling me you're missing two days?" Reid was getting annoyed, partly because he didn't like this inquisition and partly because he was feeling withdrawl symptoms creep up on him. He brushed Hotch off as he walked past him to moved towards the kitchen,

"Would you please just leave me alone? I didn't ask you to come here. I didn't let you in. Get out," Hotch stopped him and took his arm to show Reid his own arm,

"Is this what you call getting better? This time off is for you to get help, not go on some binge," Reid had pulled his arm back and was searching the room, undoubtedly to find something that would take the edge off, "you're not going to find anything, I combed through the place and got rid of everything," Reid looked up at his boss with fire in his eyes,

"Are you serious?" He exited the bedroom and began riffling through his belongings for any last remnant. Hotch could only look on a try to hide his sadness. SSA Dr. Spencer Reid, the genius with three PhDs, was ransacking his own apartment for drugs he wouldn't find.

"It's really hard to see you like this," Hotch admitted. Reid argued,

"I'm trying!" He knew there was no point in upholding any false notion. The gravity of his situation was obvious, "You think I want to be like this? That I want to lose my job and the only people who have ever really cared about me? I don't! But I don't want to keep feeling so empty all the time either," Hotch replied,

"Tell me that you don't feel empty right now. You can't because that's all these drugs are. They're an empty, temporary fix to a deep-seated problem that you need to face head-on." Reid was fuming,

"It's too hard and I can't do it," suddenly Reid emotion bubbled to the top and released in the form of tears, "I can't stop, I can't-" he left off with that, sinking to the ground against a bookshelf. Hotch knelt down beside him and Reid allowed him to lay a consoling hand on his back as he trembled.

***flashforward***

That was the last time Reid had used. Hotch helped him get through the withdrawl process and kept everything off the books. He owed him his life and it was a favor he never thought he'd be able to repay. Now, eight years later, Reid stands in that same apartment, facing that same bookshelf. He had gotten better, he had become stronger, he'd been able to resist temptations after Maeve and Gideon's death, and Hotch had always been there for silent support.

The silence broke as Reid heard a knock at his door. It was late so he was cautious, though he had a good idea of who it probably was. He opened the door to reveal Emily and JJ standing on the other side.