The Beginning
Midge Ure sang, 'Please take my hand and let me breathe again; we stumble blindly, chasing something new and something sinful.' (Accent on Youth)
Hotch had managed to persuade the doctors in charge of Reid's recovery that he, Hotch, could look after him, and that time in a hospital wouldn't help.
Now, looking across at the man sitting beside him in the car, Hotch was hoping he hadn't made a terrible mistake. Reid was almost catatonic, staring straight ahead, huge eyes unfocused.
The terrible injuries to his body were healed, his insides no longer torn and damaged from the abuse he had suffered. He didn't bleed any more; he could walk and eat normally.
If food was placed in front of him, he would eat it. If a drink was placed in his hand, he would put it to his lips.
But those lips never smiled or spoke. They were still and quiet. The abusers had ripped his personality from him, stolen his life.
That torn and ripped personality that everyone warmed to was not healed. The emotional wounds were as raw and bleeding as they ever were.
"He may never recover." they had said.
How do you bind up wounds that you couldn't see?
How was he going to help him?
He felt tears forming in his eyes.
Hotch reached across and put his hand on Reid's arm.
"I am going into this shop, Spencer. I won't be long. Will you be ok waiting here?"
Hotch knew there wouldn't be an answer. But he felt sure – at least he hoped – that what he said to Reid was going in.
He got out of the car and locked the door, just in case.
He bought Reid some clothes. It was either that or take him back to his apartment and collect some things. But Hotch didn't want to complicate things for Reid.
He came out a few minutes later with a bag of clothes and toiletries.
"I've got you some things, Spencer. I hope you like them."
Hotch drove out of the car park towards his house. Reid hadn't moved.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
That evening, Hotch cooked a frozen pizza. Hotch couldn't cook, but pizza was fairly safe. Not that Reid was going to complain.
Reid ate what was put in front of him, as he always did.
Hotch sat Reid on the sofa in front of the TV. Reruns of 'Two and a Half Men' were on. Hotch hoped that something light would relax him. Reid stared at the screen, or, it seemed to Hotch, stared through it.
Reid was trapped still in the hands of his abusers. His mind was closed off to the world, holding the fear and terror inside. It was as if he had built a wall around his pain, and no one was allowed to enter.
Hotch felt such deep sadness for him. He had a brilliant mind, but he has closed it away.
Hotch knew that he had always had a fear of developing schizophrenia like his Mum, and he often showed little signs of Autism or Asperger's Syndrome.
But this was different, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, the psychiatrists had called it. Hotch just saw it as a terrible fear of connecting.
Hotch took his arm and led him upstairs. He switched the shower on, and showed Reid the shampoo and shower gel he had bought for him, and the pyjamas for him to wear.
Reid started to undress; Hotch left him alone to get ready for bed.
He waited outside in case he needed anything, but fifteen minutes later, Reid came out of the bathroom.
Hotch led him to the room that he had got ready for him, and pulled back the covers for him to get into bed. Reid got in and lay down closing his eyes.
Hotch wanted to cry for him.
"Goodnight, Reid. My room is next door, if you need me in the night."
Hotch left his door open and the light on in the hall. He knew Reid was afraid of the dark. He went to the bathroom and got himself ready.
He couldn't stop thinking of the man in his spare room.
How was he going to get him to open up?
Had he been wrong, thinking he could do what all the doctors couldn't?
Was this exacerbating his condition?
Hotch decided to try for a week, and if Reid was no better, he would call the doctors, and ask them what he should do.
He supposed they would be overjoyed that Hotch hadn't been able to help him. They were all against it in the first place.
Hotch sighed as he put on his pyjama bottoms, and padded up the hall to his bedroom. On the way past he looked in on Reid. He hadn't moved.
In his own room, Hotch pulled back the quilt and slid into bed. He still slept on 'his side' of the bed. He had tried once to put the pillows in the middle, but when he woke up in the morning, he was back on his side. He was lonely.
He sighed, and lay on his back, thinking.
He could hear Reid crying in his bed. The doctors had said this would happen sometimes. No one knew what horrors he was re-living.
"It's to be expected." they had said.
It was tearing Hotch apart.
He had to get through to him. He couldn't bear this terrible sadness..
The crying didn't stop, and Hotch eventually fell asleep anyway.
When he woke up it was still night. The crying had stopped. Hotch opened his eyes to check the time.
Reid was standing by the bed.
Hotch smiled at him. He looked like a little boy. His PJ bottoms were resting on his skinny hips. The jacket was too small for him, showing a little ring of pale flesh around his middle. His hair was fluffy and over his face.
Hotch got up onto his elbow, and reached out to Reid, pushing his hair off his face.
"Are you all right, Spencer?"
Reid held out his arms to Hotch. Hotch turned so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Reid sat beside him, and rested his head on Hotch's shoulder. Instinctively, Hotch put his arm around Reid, and held him. He felt Reid relax onto him.
Hotch pulled back the covers on the bed, and lay down on his side. Reid lay down next to him, his back to Hotch. Hotch put his arms around Reid, and he felt Reid press himself against him.
Hotch felt a surge of emotion, love for this man. He put his face in Reid's soft hair. It smelled of apple shampoo and pheromones. He pulled Reid closer, and felt Reid's body relax, his breathing become smoother, more gentle and natural.
Almost without thinking, Hotch kissed the back of Reid's neck.
"I'll take care of you, Spence."
I think I am falling for you………