Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. Dr. Sarlington belongs to mein Engel and is being used with permission.

Part 4

And when the cops closed the fair

I cut my long baby hair

Stole me a dog-eared map

And called for you everywhere.

- American Mouth, Iron & Wine

Saturday April 1st, 2007

3:00 am

I wake up on the floor with no idea how I've gotten there. The last thing I remember was falling asleep in Spencer's bed, listening to him ramble. I raise my head off the floor and look around the room. It is even messier than earlier. It looks like a whirlwind has passed through the bedroom; I think the whirlwind's name is Spencer Reid.

Spencer is not in bed, nor is he anywhere in the bedroom or bathroom. I hope he hasn't taken off. I walk slowly down the hall, trying to be as quiet as possible. I can see Spencer storming around the living room, tearing everything apart. I have no idea what exactly he is looking for but he is definitely scary. He resembles an addict, looking for his next fix. I have known Spencer for almost three years now and I don't think I have ever seen him this angry before. He never loses his cool.

I know the instant Spencer spots me peeking around the corner into the living room because he rushes over towards me and drags me into the middle of the room. "Where is it? Where did you hide it?" he roars.

I am stunned speechless. I have no idea what he is talking about.

Spencer gabs me by my shoulders and shakes me. "Where did you hide it?" he yells in my face.

I gather what is left of my courage and say, "I didn't hide anything Spencer. I don't know what you're talking about."

He shoves me back, I fall over the small coffee table and land on the floor next to the couch. Spencer keeps coming after me and I try to scramble away. I make it as far as the corner of the living room. I squeeze myself into the tiny space behind an end table, between the couch and the wall. My breathing sounds ragged to my ears and I am so scared I feel like I cannot breathe so I start breathing faster and faster. I've got black spots in my vision and I think I might pass out if I continue breathing like this but I can't stop. I need more air.

Even my hyper-vigilance isn't telling me where Spencer is and I'm too afraid I'll see him if I lift my head. There is no one for me to call for help. The team is spread out for the weekend and even if there was someone I could call, I cannot because my cellphone is in the bedroom.

When my brain registers that there is no noise in the living room, I start to calm down a little. I stop breathing altogether in an attempt to control my breathing pattern. This is a trick Spencer taught me but I don't want to think about that because right now thinking about Spencer is scaring me even more and that will not help me calm down or escape.

The black spots in my vision disappear as I get my breathing under control. My hyper-vigilance returns to normal and I can feel someone looking at me. I look up to the gap at the top of the couch and no one is there. Hmm, maybe my hyper-vigilance was wrong, but I don't think it was, I still feel someone's eyes on me. I look down again, back to my eye-level; Spencer is lying on the floor, just on the other side of the side table. He has one arm extended towards me and the other is curled up at his chest. He's crying very quietly.

Spencer sees me looking at him and starts talking, "I'm so sorry Kitty Cat."

I flinch at the nickname but Spencer doesn't notice, he is too far-gone.

"I didn't mean to scare you. Please, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Please help me, I need help."

He looks so broken, curled up on the floor, crying, begging me for help.
I don't know what to do.

Spencer keeps apologizing and it's making me uncomfortable, I have never seen someone so broken, I have never even seen Spencer cry before tonight.

I swallow my fear and climb out from behind the couch. I don't want to touch Spencer but he needs comfort more than I need to stay away and be calm. I sit down next to where Spencer is lying on the floor. I pick up his head and put it in my lap. I hold one of Spencer's hands and run my fingers through his hair, trying to calm both of us. I can't use his nickname; the familiarity would break my resolve and I need to be strong. "What are you on Spencer?"

He won't look at me and I know it must be bad; I know statistics about drugs, Spencer taught me them, but have had no real world experience. I don't know what to say or how to help.

Spencer's voice is so very small, "Dilauded."

My breath catches in my throat, "Hydromorphone?"

Spencer nods once.

I am stunned, "Who gave it to you? Where did you get it? When? How?"

Spencer is refusing to look at me.

"Spencer, please look at me." I try to move his head but he's so stiff I cannot.

After a few minutes of silence Spencer whispers, "It was Henkel."

I'm so angry, if my eyes could shoot lasers the room would already be in flames. The man that abducted, tortured and killed Spencer also got him addicted to drugs. I feel sick.

Spencer must take my silence as anger directed towards him because he starts crying and apologized for scaring me. He is promising to get help.

I can feel my heart breaking. I want to cry. "Spence I can't help you." I whisper, "You need a doctor. A medical doctor."

Spencer must misinterpret what I'm saying because Spencer grabs hold of my leg with his free hand and says, "Don't leave me, please don't leave me."

I tighten my grip around Spencer's hand, "I'm not leaving Spence. I promise. But tomorrow we need to go to a doctor. You can't just stop taking Hydromorphone cold turkey, you could kill yourself and you're not allowed to die."

There are little droplets of water falling onto Spencer's face, I brush them away but more keep falling. I look up at the ceiling, expecting to see a crack with water dripping. There isn't one, the droplets of water on Spencer's face are my tears. Tears that I didn't know I was crying.

I don't know how we manage it but somehow we end up back in bed. I'm exhausted and I just want to sleep but my mind is so full. Tomorrow Spencer and I need to find a doctor who will help wean Spencer off the Hydromorphone so that he doesn't die. Spencer cannot die. I won't allow that to happen. Tomorrow I will need to clean Spencer's apartment and make sure there are no needles or other kinds of drugs.

I almost wish there was someone from the team who was still around this weekend. But right now, I'm so furious with every single one of them, they didn't do anything about Spencer's problem. They haven't helped him. We're family, we're supposed to help each other. I understand that if Aaron had done something about it, then he would have had to report it to the bureau and Spencer would lose his job. But the rest of the team could have done something, anything. Why did they take off this weekend and leave me with an obviously damaged Spencer Reid?

I am thankful that Spencer falls asleep the instant his head hits his pillow because I don't know what to say. We are ending our day the same way we started it, in silence.

The Chinese use two brush strokes to write the word 'crisis.'

One brush stroke stands for danger;

the other for opportunity.

in a crisis, be aware of the danger

-but recognize the opportunity.

― John F. Kennedy

Part 5

"Lights will guide you home.

And ignite your bones.

And I will try to fix you."

- Fix You, Coldplay

Saturday April 1st, 2007

Seven am comes way too quickly for my liking. I grab some cold pizza for Spencer and I to eat for breakfast before we leave for the doctor. I am concerned when Spencer can't stop shivering. I suppose it isn't really shivering, more like he's shaking from withdrawal. Damn it. I need to get him to the doctor but Spencer is in no condition to drive and I don't have my full license yet. We're going to have to take the subway.

We leave the house just after 7:30. I lock up with my key. It takes us almost an hour to reach Spencer's doctor. We have to walk a long way once we get off the subway and Spencer keeps tripping over his shoes and veering off. It would be awkwardly cute if I didn't know the real reason he can't walk straight.

Arriving at Dr. Sarlington's office, I open the door and usher Spencer in quickly. He doesn't put up any resistance. We walk up three flights of stairs because there is no way I am letting Spencer get into an elevator with people who might recognize him. By the time we reach the fourth floor, Spencer is puffing a little bit and he's starting to visibly sweat.

I pull Spencer's medical card and his insurance card out of my purse and hand it to the receptionist, her nametag says Rose, telling her that it is an emergency. Rose protests until I point out Spencer who is sitting in the waiting area, hunched over and shaking. She tells me we might need to wait a few minutes before the doctor can see Spencer but that he will be next.

I sit down next to Spencer and try to ignore the other patients who are glaring at us. I am successful because Spencer starts rambling and I need to try and keep him quiet. He is talking rather loudly about staph infections in hospitals. Luckily, Dr. Sarlington calls out Spencer's name before he can gross out too many patients.

"Dr. Reid."

I touch Spencer's arm to get his attention, "Come on Spence, you have to get up. It's time to see your doctor."

Spencer lurches up and almost falls over. I'm trying to steady him but even Spencer the beanpole weighs too much for me on my own. The doctor rushes over to help when he sees me struggling. I can hardly believe that Spencer is letting us touch him; then again, the other choice is for him to face-plant in the waiting room. Together we get Spencer into the office and sit him down on a chair. There is no way that we can get him up onto the examining table.

"What happened?" The doctor demands angrily of me, stepping closer to me.

I take a step back, trying to regain control. "Spencer needs help." It sounds pitiful even to my ears.

The doctor looks incredulous, "I can see that." He says, "What happened? Who are you and why should I let you stay?"

I frown, "My name is Catherine Jareau. And you should let me stay because Spencer isn't in any condition to tell you anything right now."

"Fair enough." He says sitting down at his desk, "Tell me everything you know."

"Spencer was abducted while he was on a case a in February and the person who abducted him gave Spencer Hydromorphone. Spencer has been using it since."

The doctor frowns. "Is this true Dr. Reid?" He asks, turning to Spencer.

Spencer nods but doesn't say anything.

The doctor questions Spencer for a little while and I take a few minutes to study the doctor while he is otherwise occupied. Dr. Sarlington is a heavy set Caucasian male probably in his forties. He is wearing a light blue dress shirt, black dress pants and shoes. He has black hair flecked with grey and thick black glasses. Dr. Sarlington leaves the room; I'm a little bit worried because I don't know what's going on. The fast-paced medical jargon was flying way over my head.

When Dr. Sarlington returns, he gives Spencer a shot and says, "Okay Dr. Reid I will need you to come back to see me every morning before work so that I can monitor the dosage and decrease it accordingly."

I pipe up, "What about when he travels for work?"

Dr. Sarlington looks at me and then back at Spencer, "We will have to arrange something for that if and when that happens."

Spencer is starting to look a little bit better so I pack up my things and get ready to leave. The doctor stops me at the door, he holds out his hand and says, "You're a very good friend to bring Spencer here."

I shudder internally when I reach out to shake the doctor's hand. I'm sure he's very nice and he has been helpful today but I don't like being touched. The doctor hands me a few pamphlets and I stuff them into my bag without looking at them.

"Dr. Reid," the doctor calls out just as I'm turning the door handle. "Don't forget about those AA meetings I was telling you about. I gave your friend the papers."

Spencer and I take the subway back to his apartment. The trip is much quicker now because Spencer isn't constantly tripping over his feet and he can walk in a straight line.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness:

only light can do that.

Hate cannot drive out hate:

only love can do that.

- Martin Luther King Jr.

AN: Writing Spencer while he was high was rather difficult. Next chapter will be posted on May 28, 2012.