Baby is continuing to spiral! And his hand and face are still injured because he is doing poorlyyyyyy but its finnneeeeee. Get ready for some angstttt

S5 E10

The plane was quiet. The lights were off, and everyone was asleep.

Well, almost everyone.

Reid stared out the window and into the night sky blankly. He was tired, but he couldn't go to sleep.

He wasn't sure he deserved to rest.

The rest of his team were exhausted, passing out almost immediately as they got on the plane. But he didn't deserve to rest as they did, he'd barely helped out at all in this case. He was getting more and more useless as the days went on, and he couldn't afford to be.

They were a man down.

Hotch would be out of the office a while, in fact they weren't even sure that he would return.

This scared Reid. He didn't want to lose Hotch, as much as he didn't want to admit it, he needed the man. But he also understood that Jack needed his father.

As someone who grew up without one, he knew how important it was that Hotch be there for Jack, and that they would have a good relationship.

Even though the team was still together, Reid could feel it beginning to crumble.

Morgan was doing a great job as the leader, but it was obvious that he was stressed out and feeling the pressure. Even though they all knew that he'd do well, for the first time ever it was obvious that the man was unsure of himself.

Garcia had been dwelling about Morgan, worried that he'd run himself into the ground, and JJ was too focused on Hotch and Jack. Rossi seemed distracted too, though Reid wasn't sure the specifics.

The only one who seemed to be keeping it together was Prentiss, but it was clear that she was struggling as well.

As for Reid, it felt like he was fighting a losing battle every day. Each time he woke up, he felt more and more empty. It was getting tiresome, trying to get through each day. Plastering on a fake smile and forcing himself to talk about nonsense that no one would suspect anything. He didn't have the passion or the drive for his job anymore, Reid felt like he was losing himself.

He bit his lip, glancing down at his still bandaged hand. It was still healing from a little over a week ago when he'd decided to redecorate his bathroom by smashing the shit out of his mirror.

The team had asked him what happened, and he'd spun some bullshit lie about burning his hand on the coffee maker. Since he always made sure the injuries were covered around them, they had no idea that it was an array of cuts decorating his hand, and not a burn.

Of course, they'd asked about his face as well, which he'd forgotten about. Luckily the gash he'd received there was healing faster than his hand, the cut not having been as deep or destructive, but he'd still had to lie about that too.

He was clumsy enough that he claimed he'd hit his cheekbone when he'd fallen in his apartment. It seemed like everyone was pretty skeptical about the claim, but no one called him on it so, thankfully, it was let go.

Reid clenched his hand into a fist, wincing when the injuries pulled. He let his hand relax once more, looking out the window again.

He was struggling.

It wasn't like with the dilauded. No, this was different. When he was on dilauded he was running from the nightmares of Hankel, of being trapped in that barn again with the smell of burning fish and the physical and psychological torture.

The drugs helped him become numb, they helped him forget.

Sure, they made him snap at his coworkers and almost ruined his professional career, but to him, the pain of living with the constant memory of his torture made the drugs worth it.

Now, though, he didn't crave the drugs. Sure, he still had cravings every once in a while, he always would. But this depression he was spiraling into didn't make him want to sneak down the old alleyway downtown and find his dealer.

No, he'd done that to numb the pain, now there was nothing left to numb. He was empty.

He'd been tempted to smash another mirror, or punch a wall, or go pick a fight with someone he knew he wouldn't win. Just to make sure he could still feel something, anything at all. But he didn't.

Instead, he went through the motions, only pulling himself out of bed every day because of his obligation to the team.

A few months ago, someone probably would've noticed something was off. Someone would have pulled him aside to talk to him, to make sure he was okay.

Reid hated that no one noticed, but he also hated that he was too weak to just ask someone for some damn help. If he asked, he knew someone would save him, they'd pull him out of the cold abyss that he was sinking further and further into.

But he also knew he was a burden. He knew that the team had to be getting annoyed with the constant need for reassurance and validation. That's why he just couldn't work up the courage to ask, he didn't want to put that on someone else. He would just have to handle it on his own.

But he was drowning and everyone around him was too blind to notice.

Maybe that's why he was starting to get a little reckless on cases. Or why he'd been so distracted that it seemed like all of his profiles were falling flat.

If Hotch was here, he'd probably pull him aside and try to figure out why his brain wasn't working, why all of his predictions were wrong, why he kept malfunctioning.

But, then again, maybe he was broken beyond repair this time. Perhaps he couldn't come back from this.

Reid shifted in his seat, glancing around the plane. Everyone was still asleep, no one had even moved. They were all exhausted from the emotionally draining weekend they'd experienced, and the difficult case they'd been through.

Resting his head in his hands, Reid closed his eyes for a moment. He massaged his temples, attempting to combat the headache which was beginning to form.

His mind wandered back to Hotch, wishing there was something he could do for the man. Or something that he could've done to prevent Haley from being killed at all. Hell, he hadn't even been there when they'd gotten Foyet because of his damn knee.

Reid opened his eyes, biting his lip as tears began forming in his eyes. A small voice in the back of his head told him he was wrong, that he should ask for help, that he deserved help. But it was drowned out by the louder yells of self-loathing.

Maybe it was time for Reid to move on. If Hotch came back, maybe Reid would do what Gideon did and just allow himself to disappear. Maybe he'd leave his gun and badge at his desk one day and just not come back.

He could return to Las Vegas, rededicate himself to trying to find a cure for schizophrenia. Or maybe he'd go say goodbye to his mom and just drop off the map completely.

No one would miss him if he left. He'd miss the team, but they didn't need him anymore. They all had lives outside of the BAU, and they seemed to be doing just fine without his input. In fact, he seemed to continuously make things worse when he did add input, so perhaps they'd be better off without him after all.

Reid continued to spiral in his mind, but the plane eventually landed. When his team members began waking up, he recomposed himself, making sure he seemed as normal as possible.

Nothing was wrong.

When they arrived back at the BAU, Reid didn't want to go home. There was someplace else he had in mind. He snuck away from the office, making sure no one was following him, and called a cab.

He gave the man the address and silently sat in the back, watching the bright city lights dance in the darkness.

By the time he was dropped off, it was almost two in the morning. Reid got out of the car, stepping onto the gravel road and swung his satchel over his shoulder, thanking the driver. He watched as the taxi pulled away until there was only light from the moon illuminating the woods.

Reid turned around, sighing heavily as he stared at Gideon's cabin.

He hadn't been here in two years, not since he'd initially found out that Gideon had left.

He didn't think he'd ever come back, there had been no reason to. But now, he did have a reason, he was looking for answers.

Reid understood the man's actions now, he understood being broken down to a level where there was no more fight. Gideon was the only person who could understand, and since he couldn't talk to him directly, maybe the cabin would hold some answers.

Walking in, Reid grabbed a flashlight out of his bag, flicking it on. He tried the switch, but it seemed that the power was still down for the cabin, Gideon probably hadn't been back at all since.

Taking a deep breath, suppressing a shutter of fear, Reid slowly made his way around the dark cabin. There wasn't much there other than dusty furniture. Gideon seemed to have taken most everything of importance with him when he left.

Still, Reid felt like there was something there that could help him.

Gideon had always seemed to know exactly what Reid was thinking and feeling, and he felt like there was a possibility that the man knew he'd be driven to come back and visit the cabin at some point, and that he probably wouldn't be in the best headspace when it occurred.

Reid made his way around the house slowly and quietly, feeling awkward to be destroying the blanket of silence filling the cabin.

There wasn't much to see, but just when Reid was debating giving up, he noticed something. On the fireplace, there seemed to be a brick that didn't match. It was a different color than the rest and stuck out a little further than the others. He made his way over to it, awkwardly sitting on the floor.

Reaching up, he slowly began shifting the brick, and it started sliding out of its position. After he removed it completely and placed the loose brick on the floor, he held up the flashlight. Inside the hole sat a small journal, one Reid had seen Gideon carrying around with him when he'd still worked at the BAU.

It was the journal where he kept names. Names of all the people he saves, of the people whom he had kept photos of and considered to be his family.

Reid thought back to when he'd given him the photo of the girl he'd saved around four years ago in an attempt to help Reid get over his nightmares. It had worked, of course, and Reid still carried that photo with him in his wallet. It surprised him that, even in retirement, Gideon would leave something that was so precious to him behind.

Reid grabbed the notebook and slowly began flipping through it. Each page had a name and description of the person. Not of the crime that had been committed or the unsub who'd done it, but rather a description of who the person had been before the tragedy. Sort of a remembrance of their life. Occasionally there was a quote along with them, but not with everyone.

The whole notebook was not full, but Reid skipped to the last filled page, seeing the name Amy Deckerman, the college student who'd been killed during Gideon's last case at the BAU. Reid's eyes filled with tears in reading the description of the girl. It was always hard when one of the people they interviewed ended up being the next one of the unsub's victims.

Reid started to close the notebook but realized that it looked like the very last page had something on it. He slowly flipped to it, brows furrowing in confusion. Sure enough, there was ink on the page in Gideon's writing, and once again the man had easily predicted Reid's future moves.

Reid read the note, tears immediately beginning to flow as the words hit home for him. How Gideon always knew what to say, Reid did not understand, but the pang of pain in his heart and wetness on his cheeks proved that the man knew Reid better than he knew himself.

He clutched the notebook tight to his chest, letting more tears fall freely. He missed Gideon so much, he just wanted to play one last chess game with the man or have one more profiling session with him.

Reid sat on the floor, letting the sadness wash over him.

Today, he'd let the pain and sadness win, but tomorrow he'd stand up, stick the notebook in his satchel and brush himself off. Gideon was right, he had to hang on. Hopefully things would get better, for everyone.

~Gideon's Note~

"Reid,

Take this notebook with you. If you're finding this, I'm assuming you're in a tough position right now, that your struggling again. I couldn't hang on because I'm not as strong as you are, I'm not as bright, and I didn't have a support of people like you do now.

Use them. Ask for help, don't try to fix everything on your own.

Remember Roosevelt's quote: 'When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.'

I'm sorry I can't be there for you, but there are plenty of people around you who want to help. Let them. Don't push them away. Let them in.

Take this pain and put it to use, keep saving people, keep pushing on.

Hang in there, Spencer, things will get better.

-G"

I hope you liked this chapter! I had fun writing more of the emotional and psychological angst with bb Reid. I didn't rly know where I was going with this chapter at first, but im pretty happy with how it turned out.
Thanks to everyone who's been so supportive of my writing, and for following along! It's crazy that I'm almost at 100k words, I never thought I would've kept writing for this long, but I just love it and im so glad that y'all have been enjoying my fics, love y'all