(Okay, so it's been a lot longer than I meant for it to be getting this chapter posted, but it's a nice, long one at least. I hope people are still enjoying it. As always, I don't own any of it, I just really wish we could get some sort of resolution to the Reid/Dilaudid storyline, so I'm providing it for myself. And, oddly enough, I planned for it to be Gideon knocking on Reid's door in the middle of the night to talk things out, but as I was writing it, someone else showed up when Reid opened the door. So, what could I do? I just went with it. Hope you don't mind…)

And Still We Smile

Chapter Eight

"Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother."

- Khalil Gibran

As Reid lugged his tired, aching body into his hotel room that night, he wanted nothing more than to flop down on the bed and escape into oblivion for as long as he possibly could. If nothing else, judging by the fact that it was nearly 2 a.m., he figured he had managed to postpone his talk with Gideon for another day.

They'd been poring over all the information they had gathered and all their theories so far, and it seemed they finally had a viable profile to work from. It was always a relief to get their "road map" so to speak; to feel that they were that much closer to stopping a killer because they now knew the way their unsub could be caught.

But even that tiny bit of relief didn't take over the more prominent feelings of dread and worry over what the next day would bring. Not only did he distinctly feel that at any moment he could fall apart completely, but he knew that he'd finally have to admit what he'd been doing and face the consequences.

Would they take him off the case? Could he even be dismissed from the BAU? This was drug use, after all. Or would he simply get a slap on the wrist and have the Dilaudid confiscated? It would be the best thing for him, Reid knew that – since he couldn't seem to give it up on his own. But it would also mean there would be no means of solace left to him when he couldn't sleep for the thoughts racing through his head, or when the full-scale panic attacks struck him while he was trying to do his job.

With a sigh, he slipped out of the button-down and cardigan, slacks and dress shoes he'd had on all day and slipped a soft, worn gray T-shirt and plaid flannel pants from his suitcase and over his lanky body. Stretching his long, gangly limbs out to rest at last felt good. His stomach muscles ached from the violent emptying they had done that afternoon, and he was dragging from exhaustion between the constant hiding and worrying, the tension and panic all his days and most of his nights now consisted of. If only he could relax and get some real sleep.

He lay there a long time, watching the red numbers blink from one minute to another; time passing on and his eyes still unable to close, not able to bear what he might meet in his dreams. He flipped over to his stomach, then curled protectively on his side, but no position enabled him to drift off. It never did. He wanted to sleep so badly. Needed to sleep… He was making himself sick, and it was only going to get worse…

Finally, with a frustrated, angry growl, he threw the sheets off his legs, swung himself up and out of bed, and stood to pad barefoot over the hotel carpet and into the bathroom. Staring at his reflection in the mirror over the sink, he took in the large, purple bags under his sleepless eyes and the nervous jump that disturbed the muscle in his jaw from time to time, and tried to avoid seeing the red, irritated skin near the inside of his elbow. There was nothing for it, if he were going to get any rest tonight before whatever he would end up facing tomorrow, he would have to have a little help… It might be the last time he'd feel the bitter comfort flooding his senses.

He'd readied the syringe of Dilaudid seemingly before he knew it, and was about to stick it in his arm, when he was interrupted by a knock on the door. Reid almost ignored it, thinking that at this time of night the knocking must be in his head, but when it came again, louder and more insistent, he knew it had to be someone wanting in.

Reid considered ignoring whoever it was, hoping they'd think he was asleep and go away. But he decided against it. If it were Gideon, who'd probably already deduced that Reid never slept well anymore, he might get overly concerned when his young agent didn't answer and before long the whole team might be out in the hallway. And Reid certainly didn't want to have the coming confessional in front of all of them.

Cursing to himself silently, he thrust the drugs and paraphernalia back into the mirrored medicine cabinet where he'd gotten them a second before. "Coming," he croaked out hoarsely, wondering why he had finally given himself away and forced this discussion to be necessary. "Just a second."

He pulled the door open, already wondering what he was going to say, when he was thrown for an even bigger loop. The person standing anxiously on the other side of his door, looking nearly as nervous, awkward, and unsure as he was, was not Gideon, but JJ.

She turned those beautiful, wide doe eyes up at him, and in that moment, all thoughts fled from his mind. No worries, no fears, no anger, no guilt, no desperate frustration, even the pain and the need for the drug was gone – if only because his brain seemed suddenly not to be functioning at all.

"Spence…" she whispered, her perfect, pale pink glossed lips forming his name as she started to explain herself, but then falling helplessly silent.

"JJ," he responded, dazed at the blank, simple comfort he suddenly felt, void of all that had been tormenting him ever since that fateful night in Georgia.

And then, his brain lurched back into gear. The anxiety and shame kicked back in. She couldn't know. She couldn't find out. Not JJ. He couldn't bear it. Gideon knowing was one thing, but not this woman he practically idolized, that he'd foolishly dreamed of one day impressing and making his own. "What are you doing here?" he managed to stutter.

"I couldn't sleep," she mumbled, eyes shifting down to study her feet, embarrassed it seemed. She was still dressed for the press conference they'd held that day, formal and professional all the way down to the fancy heels she still had on her feet. He doubted she'd been trying to sleep in that outfit. "For some reason, I wanted to see you. Just – just in case maybe you weren't sleeping either…" she trailed off lamely with a sheepish shrug.

Reid wasn't sure he completely bought her explanation, and he didn't quite know what to do with that. He wanted to let her in – in more ways than one. And if she couldn't sleep, if she was having problems of her own…well, he certainly wanted to be there for her. But if she was trying to discover more about his demons… He didn't know how much of that he could take.

"Spence?" she asked again, her voice tiny, not brusque and all business like it normally was. She didn't understand what his hesitation was about. "Are you going to make me stay out here?"

"Oh…right…sure, of course…sorry," he mumbled quickly, his words tumbling over themselves as he stepped back to allow her through the door. Closing it softly behind them, he turned to watch her trail softly over to the little loveseat by the window looking out on the night skyline. She daintily sat, her bright golden hair glowing in the dim room, looking as if she were ready to jump back up and run – not sure of her welcome.

Then, she glanced up at him, her eyes searching his, and she patted the spot next to her. "Sit with me, Spence?" she asked hopefully.

He did, nervously, fiddling with his hands as he sat there, suddenly trying to ignore those gorgeous eyes that were seeking his out. He wasn't sure that this was a conversation they could have.

Yet, she managed to surprise him again, reaching out to clasp his hand in both of hers and rest it on her knee. "Reid," she whispered, sounding like she had to force the word out while his breath caught in his throat at her touch. "Please talk to me. I feel like something's wrong. I'm worried about you."

His heart was suddenly thudding too fast against his ribs, jarring his nerves as he tried to think. He felt himself growing defensive as he panicked. "Why are you asking me what's wrong? Nothing's wrong! Aren't I doing my job? How am I acting any different than I usually do?" he spit out, eyes flashing to hers angrily, then darting away when she tried to hold their gaze.

"Spence, don't bullshit me," she warned, her concern for him not letting her give an inch. Then, more quietly, "I'd like to think I mean a little more to you than that."

His glance shot up from studying his bare feet to her at those words, and his brow furrowed. Just how did she mean that statement? But he didn't say anything, and JJ continued.

"You're as capable and brilliant as always. It's not your work that's concerning me. You're pulling away from us, and you're afraid of something. I can feel the fear. I know that fear now. Don't lie to me, Spence. Don't shut me out."

Reid felt his mouth flop open and then clamp shut again, flabbergasted. How did she know? Either he wasn't as good at hiding as he'd thought or JJ was paying much more attention to him than he'd realized. He was mentally telling himself to screw the lid down tighter on his secret before he poured it all out to her, when, to his embarrassment, he could feel a sheen of unshed tears glossing his eyes, burning the lower lids as he refused to let them spill over.

"JJ, stop it," he shot back one last time, scared to let go of what he'd kept hidden for so long. "You're imagining things."

"No, I'm not," she retorted, staring right at him, every bit as determined as he was and with even more incentive. They were not going to lose him now – not if there was any way she could help it.

"Fine," he choked out suddenly, almost coughing on the word as it slipped out, "but you're only going to wish you didn't know. You're going to walk away and hate that I told you." Then suddenly, it was like she'd pulled the story from him, he didn't want to be alone with it anymore and this one listening ear in the middle of the night finally sliced through his defenses letting the poison drain from his wounds. He kept talking and talking, faster and faster, as if he suddenly couldn't get all he'd been holding inside out fast enough. When he finished, he stood and stalked into the bathroom, got the Dilaudid and syringe, brought them to her and laid them in her hands. "I couldn't quit it on my own, and I couldn't tell any of you either so that someone could take it from me. It's sick and pathetic, and I know you don't even want to still be sitting here with me now that you know, so why don't you just get out and leave me alone?" Angrily, he swiped at the couple tears that had gotten away and glared at her as if daring her to show the disappointment she must be feeling in him and walk out. She'd tell Hotch, and that would be it, he'd be off the team and he'd lose all of them.

JJ merely sat there, stunned, not sure how to respond to Reid's confession, nor to the sheer force of emotion radiating off him. He rarely allowed any of his feelings to surface and now she was seeing all of it, laid bare clear down into his soul. But she wasn't disappointed in him, didn't think any less of him – as a federal agent, or as a man – she only wanted to make the hurt better, now that he'd finally given her the chance.

Setting the drugs he'd handed over to her aside, she took a deep breath, only able to hope and pray she'd say the right thing for him. Then, tentatively, she spoke, staring right into his eyes all the while, "Spence, listen to me, please. I don't want to be anywhere other than right here, trying to help you understand that I don't think any less of you, and neither would anyone else on the team. You've been dealing with something horrible, something no one should have to deal with alone. You should have told someone sooner, but the trauma and the addiction aren't your fault. You didn't want these drugs, you didn't choose them, Tobias forced them into your system until your body thought it needed them. You've been choosing them since then, but you can also choose to stop now. You can make this right. I can guarantee that everyone will be in your corner if you stand up and fight this. You've been getting by with all this pressing in on you better than most people ever could. Don't for a second think about giving up now. And don't fool yourself into thinking we'd blame you for this or suddenly stop caring about you. It's just not true."

He sighed sadly, holding onto her hand like a lifeline, wishing he could bring himself to believe completely in her words. He knew he needed her – and the whole team's – help. Bowing his head, he leaned forward for just a second, barely allowing his forehead to rest on her shoulder for a moment and permitting her graceful fingers to soothingly sift through his hair just once. Then he pulled back and stared into her face, searching, looking as vulnerable as he'd ever been. "What do I do?" he whispered, dreading almost any option he could think of.

JJ stood, pulling him to his feet and guiding him over to his bed. She switched effortlessly into her capable care-giving, fix everything role and told him simply. "You're going to actually get some sleep," he started to interrupt, but she plowed right ahead, brooking no arguments, "I'll stay right here in this chair beside you and read, so it's fine, just relax and get some rest."

She saw the guilty look cross his face, wondered for a moment if he'd refuse her, and then continued, knowing he felt bad but truly wanting him to be able to feel safe until morning, without the help of the Dilaudid. "Then, in the morning, when things will seem clearer, I promise, you'll take it all to Hotch and tell him the whole truth. I'll go with you. And we'll get through this, Spence. You're going to be okay."