Disclaimer: See first chapter.

Comfort the Fearful Part II

"Fear is the cheapest room in the house. I would like to see you living in better conditions." – Hafez

Seeing the man cowering in the corner next to the bed acted as a catalyst to Aiken's clouded mind. As he stood there, he could no longer keep the images of his mother and brother's broken bodies at bay. The blood-soaked memory assailed him with such fervor that he could only stand there, trembling. Lost in the recollection of the event, reliving the horrific calamity in its entirety, he didn't hear when Reid called his name. Instead, he heard his mother pleading with the man who killed her, "Nno, please let me and my son go. Whatever you need, take it, but please just leave. We won't call the police, I promise."

Tears slipped down his face as he remembered Braden being tossed into the refrigerator, his blood snaking its way to where he hid. He saw his mom's body, lying in front of him, a knife sticking out of her chest, her eyes going dull as she breathed her last. He couldn't stop the memories from coming and he couldn't stop his tears either. If only he could go back to the safety of pretending that his brother was hiding from him, that he was waiting for Aiken to find him and that his mother was at home, baking chocolate chip cookies for them.

"Aiken," Reid called again, reaching out for the boy as he inched his way toward him. He couldn't tell what was going on in the young boy's mind, but it looked as though it was painful and terrifying. He shuddered as he was reminded of how he had spent the last few minutes in the bedroom, fear of Hankel foremost in his mind as he relived his capture at the hands of the madman. If Aiken were reliving what he had seen happen to his mother and brother… Reid knew that he had to get through to him, save him from his own mind.

"Aiken, look at me. My name is Spencer. Spencer Reid. I am with the FBI. I am here to help you," he spoke in dulcet tones hoping to break through the boy's memories and draw him into the present where he would be able to help him. Reid moved stealthily toward the boy, the pain in his lower back screaming out for him to stop. Ignoring the pain, he reached out for the boy, attempting to pull Aiken to himself.

Aiken fought back, not understanding that the arms reaching for him were there to help him, thinking only that he had to get away. This time, as the memory played back in his mind, the monster had found him and was reaching out to grab him and pull him from his hiding place. He bit the hand that reached out for him and kicked at the monster with all of his might. He would not be taken without a fight. He scratched, hit, bit, kicked, and pushed at the monster, struggling to get away from him.

The bite was surprisingly hard and drew blood, scarlet against Reid's pale white skin. Reid pulled his hand back in pain. Perhaps that hadn't been the best approach. Clearly the boy thinks that I am a threat. I have to get him to trust me and to understand that he is safe. These thoughts did nothing to assuage the pain of Aiken's attack on his battered body. Reid almost laughed out loud at the thought that when Hotch and Morgan returned, he would look as though he had been beaten. He could feel blood flowing from the gouges caused by Aiken's scratches on his arms as he continued to thrash out at him. Knowing that he had to do something to stop the attack before the boy injured him further or even worse, injured himself, Reid forced his aching body into a kneeling position and wrapped his wounded arms around the boy who continued to flail wildly in a furtive attempt to escape.

"Aiken!" It came out as a semi-strangled gasp, "Aiken, I'm not going to hurt you. Please calm down. Everything is going to be okay," it sounded strange even to his own ears. Would everything be okay? Who was he to say everything would be okay when his own tattered mind kept bringing him back to that infernal day when Hankel had nearly killed him? Letting out a half-sob, he held onto the boy who continued to struggle in his arms, clinging to him as though he were his savior rather than the other way around. He began rocking back and forth, unaware of the tears that streamed down his own face and mingled with Aiken's, his cheek pressed fast against the young boy's, "Hush, it will be okay," it has to be okay. It would be okay wouldn't it? When would it be okay for him? How could he promise that things would be okay when they weren't? How could he give the boy hope that things would be okay when he himself still struggled with terror-filled memories that retained the power to hold him captive more than a year after the nightmarish events with Hankel had occurred? What did he have to offer this frightened little boy that could possibly be a comfort? Who was he trying to fool? How could he help anyone when he was such a failure at helping himself?

Assailed by these thoughts of self-doubt, Reid continued to hold onto Aiken, who no longer struggled, but had become stiff in his arms. Sighing, he sat and pulled the boy onto his lap, cradling his head to his chest and continued the gentle rocking motion while whispering words of reassurance, his chin resting on the boy's pain in his lower back forgotten, Reid held onto the boy, willing him to relax and breathe normally. Rubbing small circles on Aiken's back, he started when the boy's arms stole around him. Forcing himself to remain calm and not to stiffen up, Reid looked down at the boy. Noticing that his tears had not ceased and his eyes were screwed tight as though he were trying hard to banish some unwanted vision, Reid renewed his rhythmic ministrations of solace hoping that they would allay some of Aiken's fears.

"Shhh, it'll be okay, I've got you now and I won't let anything bad happen to you," Reid soothed as he rocked back and forth, back and forth, lulling the boy into a sense of calmness.

Time seemed to have halted its incessant onward march as they clung to one another. Reid continued to rock Aiken, murmuring childish assurances that oddly enough seemed to dispel the fears of, not only the boy he adhered to, but himself as well. As both boys found comfort for their fear in each other's arms neither noticed the stalwart shadow that furtively embraced their huddled forms. Neither boy heard stealthy footsteps enter the room. Neither boy was aware he was being silently observed from just within the opened doorway.