Chapter 24

Pain and Pleasure

What have I done?

I look at my hand and at Reid on the floor…I hit him…

"Reid."

And he looks up at me and gives me a strange half smile…almost like a satisfied smirk. Then he puts his hand to his chin and runs those long fingers over where I just hit him…and I didn't pull that punch either…I wanted to hurt him…and

…………………and he wanted me to hurt him.

"What was that all about?!" I back away as Spencer starts to get up off the floor. "You think this is a game? You find this amusing?"

And he is shaking his head at me. "You said you would never hurt me."

His words cut through me and I want to be sick. "You played me Reid…you – this – all of this – was to get me to hit you?"

"You could have just tied me up Hotch…I would have been happy with that."

I don't believe what I am hearing…that sweet innocent Reid? That man with the almost childlike quality I love so much…the smell of soap…all of this…it's a lie. "What is wrong with you? Why do you need this – this….why?"

"because I need it…because I've always had it. With pleasure here is always pain Hotch…you know that."

I am walking in circles around the room trying to make sense of it all. "No Reid…no I don't know that."

"Why do you think I do some of the stuff I do? Why do you think I put myself at risk? Why? Because it fills me…makes me feel…that time…back at the hospital…when you kicked me…That was divine Hotch! I lived off that pain for weeks."

"You said I didn't hurt you."

And he goes and sits on the bed and picks up a red tie and starts fiddling with it. "I lied."

"This is insanity! Why pull me into this Spencer…I don't want to hurt you. You know I don't want to hurt you."

He is winding the tie around his fingers but looking up at me. "But you did…you did hit me Hotch…Like I knew you would…because you are all the same. Would you have hit Morgan? Would you have hit Emily or JJ?"

"No…because they wouldn't have behaved like a spoilt school child."

I watch as he stands and drops the tie to the floor. "Are you going to send me to my room now? Ground me?" He walks over towards me. "I really thought you would understand." And now he is walking past me and out to the corridor. "I'll go back to my own place in the morning."

And my heart is pounding in my chest with panic. I can't lose him over this. I won't let this one incident be the end. "Spencer." He stops and turns around to look at me. "We will talk about this in the morning….I really don't know what to think right now." He nods at me and turns again. "And Spencer…" I want him to stop and look at me…but he keeps walking to his room. "I do love you. You know that don't you?"

And I see him nodding.

I let him go and walk to the kitchen…I need a hot coffee…I need to think this over.

Obviously he is desperate for attention. That is obvious but he is going about it in the wrong way. I will be patient with him….I will help him through this and if he needs to mourn and grieve I will help him through that too. I don't know if he is aware of how much I need to be with him…and how ashamed I am that I raised my hand to him.

I could sort out bereavement counselling for him…maybe that is where to start. I stand and drink the coffee and wish I could reach him myself…but he is so hurt and angry I want to be the comforter and healer…I don't want to come across as the punisher here. That isn't the role I expected to take…and isn't the one I intend to take. I just don't know right now how to help him through this apart from the counselling. Tomorrow…Tomorrow I will talk to him…now is not a good time.

He is right. He is right about Haley and Jack. I also need to move on and this is what I am trying to do…But Jack is my son. I will move his photo to the lounge. My trashed lounge and I will put the photo of Haley somewhere where I don't see it every day.

Again I wonder. Spencer has no reminders of Floyd and I wonder how difficult that must be for him.

-o-o-o-

I'm not happy. But if this is what I need to do to at least try to survive until I have made my decision then this is what I will do.

First stop soup kitchen.

I don't know when I last ate. And this food is crap…

I've not been hunting.

I don't feel that I have the upper hand anymore….I'm shaking and diseased and I feel like I am dying…but I need to keep going for a bit longer. I am given meat and vegetables and some green jelly stuff and try to find a place away from the bums…but seems they want to sit away from me anyway so it's not proving to be a problem. A small snarl quickly clears an area for me. And it is when I am here one day that he comes over and sits opposite me.

"I see you hear a lot."

I look up and see a bloke in a thick over coat and a hat and scarf….Myself…I am still in just my shirt.

"That may be on account that I come here a lot."

He smiles at me. "I was just wondering if you needed to earn some money. So you can at least get a bed in a hostel."

"I don't need no fucking bed in a stinking hostel and I don't need your sodding charity."

"Not charity…you will have to work for your bed."

I ignore him and keep sticking tiny bits of food in my mouth. I'm eating like a real gent…with my fingers.

"Just handing out things on the street and collecting money. Then you bring it back to me…I give you a cut and you get a room and some spare change. How does it sound?"

"Sounds like I'd get more money giving blow jobs….now fuck off and leave me alone." He is really getting on my tits now.

"I can get you the medical attention you need. It will be a step forward. Off the streets and a clean warm place to sleep at night."

"I don't need medical attention mister…I think you better go before I break your sodding neck."

He nods at me now and slides a bit of paper across the table at me. "Can you read?"

I glance down at the paper and absorb the information. The names of hostels and clinics and free rehab centres. "I don't need this." And I slide it back…. "I don't need a bed and I don't need a fucking STD clinic. Now fuck off and insult someone else."

He gets up but leaves the flyer behind. "In case you change your mind."

I leave a short time later to discover it is starting to snow. I stand in my rotting shirt sleeves and wonder what I need more….a drink or a jacket….

You see….to get the pleasure from the alcohol and drugs I need to stop my body metabolising the chemicals…and when I do that I start to feel the temperature changes.

I walk around the corner and get out of the rain and lean with my back to the wall and my hands in my pockets and think of Spencer. I think of how he is slowly rotting in the ground somewhere in an unknown location and how I could have helped him if they hadn't pulled me over that morning on the bike….how the last thing I did to him was to fuck someone else in his bed…and though that is still very satisfying to my sprit …I would have….should have…said what I have written down….and my fingers play against the condom in my pocket and the thought that that is the only condom I've ever used is a bit amusing.

I stay in the shelter of this dark stinking place for about an hour trying to decide what to do.

I know…I have to find Hotchner…but to do that I need to see that Prentiss person again…and I'm not ready…I don't want to do that. I need to find another way of doing it. But my head isn't able to get things straight and my hunting is crapped out.

Slowly I move away…I need to find something to wear…I am feeling the cold real bad now…My feet are going numb….my hands are frozen even though they are stuffed in my pocket and my damp clothing isn't helping any…

With my head down against the wind and sleet which is now being blasted down my shaded corner…I am not concentrating….my hunting instincts are gone…I don't hear or see a thing until it's way too late.

-o-o-o-

He is awake before I am and when I come out of my bed room he is exiting the bathroom. He stands for a second and just looks at me.

"Hotch."

I can see a bruise on his chin and it turns my stomach to think I did that to him.

"Spencer I have to get to work. We need to talk about what happened last night." And I walk towards him and run my hand over his arm which is clothed in a bathrobe. "Do you want to go out tonight? For a meal? Watch a movie?" and I don't know what to do…he just blinks at me and shakes his head slowly.

"No Hotch I don't want to go out for a meal or watch a movie." And he crosses his arms defensively around himself…and he is withdrawing from me…and I don't know how to get him back again.

"Just say what you want…we will do it."

"I don't really want to do anything with you Hotch. I will go out alone."

So I try to pull him back…physically now…with both of my hand on his shoulders I pull him towards me and I step in closer to him…and he doesn't resist it…but at the same time he doesn't respond. I wrap my arms around him and finally feel his hands dropping to his sides. I put one hand on the small of his back and the other between his shoulder blades and I press my face into his hair.

"I would do anything for you Spencer. You know I would….but please never ask me to hurt you again. I can't do that."

"Evidently." He mutters back…but his hands are now tentatively resting on my back in return.

"I want to talk to you about this later…Will you be ok on your own? I don't mean that in a patronising way Spencer…I mean…is there enough here to entertain you?"

"Just go to work…and be safe…I'll probably sleep most of the day."

"Call if you need me."

"I will…likewise…call if you miss me."

And a small kiss on the lips from Spencer to me makes my heart skip a beat.

"And I want you to consider bereavement counselling. To help with your loss."

And it was the wrong thing to say…the hands fall from my back and he pulls away from me. "Just leave that. I don't want to talk about it. He's not dead Hotch…he is still out there somewhere…and he will come back for me. One day."

-o-o-o-

I wait for him to go to work and then go back into the bathroom. I pull off my bathrobe and look at the fresh cuts on my arms. It feels good…it looks good. I run my fingers over the ridges and feel the slight stickiness from the blood seeping out. It's OK…really it's ok…I know Hotch won't every hit me again. It took too much to get him to do it that once. I will have to do this for a while…there are other things I can do.

Turning on the tap I stand and watch as the steam slowly fogs over the mirror and once ready I carefully write on the glass. 'I am here.'

Next I walk to Hotch's room and look for the ties I had yesterday…He's but them all away so I just remove them again and walk to my own room where I close and lock my door and walk to the bed. I have to be careful….but I've done this many times with Floyd…I know how to do it now. I start off by tying my ankles to the headboard…then one hand. The other hand I also tie up but with a special loose knot…one I can tighten with my teeth once I am ready. Then I take a tie and tie it around my neck and pull tight. Maybe…four…or five…might have been more…I'm not sure…my eyes are already blurring…but the pills go back down my throat as I swallow and then I lay down…and pull the last tie tight….and I lay back and close my eyes and enjoy the experience.

-o-o-o-

When I wake up I am laying against the wall with a heavy covering of snow over my back…Something smacked the back of my head…I can feel it…I place my hand cautiously there and feel a wet sticky mess. Why the fuck would someone mug me? I don't have anything…I have nothing. Slowly I roll over onto my back and do a careful hand inspection of the rest of my body. I've taken a booting…my face has cuts and lumps on it…and I think I might have a broken rib…Bastards…what the hell was that for?

I push myself up to sit and realise that my boots are gone…Fabulous…about the only thing keeping me warm and the fucknuts took them. So I lean my back against the wall and pull my legs in tight and wonder what in hell's name I am going to do now. I will freeze to death out here and I haven't found Hotchner…and I'm not ready to find him…My hands which look like they've been stamped on slide into my pocket and rest there for a while….trying to keep them warm…and as the cold slowly dies back it dawns on me…

My pockets are empty.

My letter has gone.

The bastards took my letter for Spencer.

Quickly I am on my feet and scanning around the area…They wouldn't keep it….it was only of value to me. To anyone else it is rubbish….

For me it is my ability to die.

For Spencer the words I should have said a million times over long before now.

For whoever took it from me…a long and very painful death.

I crawl through the drifts of snow and search in the bins and behind the bins and after about two hours of searching I realise that if it is still here I will never find it…and if it was taken…then I am so fucked…so well and truly damned…

I kneel in the snow with my feet turning a funny colour and howl and scream…and finally beg…I beg for the return of my soul.