Warning: This chapter contains self-harm.

He drove in circles for over an hour.

The rain started again, harder this time, and mist billowed up from the pavement fogging the windows. He peered through the slashing movement of the wipers into the golden glow of his headlight beams, but with the flash of every car that past him by all he could see was Reid.

His pretty boy's arm marred by his own hand. The look in his eyes as he went from guilt, to fear, to fury. The anger on his face as he had screamed at Morgan before running away. And Morgan had been in so much shock he hadn't known what to do.

He had been expecting a drug addiction and what he found was an addiction of a different kind.

He should have gone after him, he knew that, but he had only run in the other direction, proving himself to be nothing more than a coward. He had promised Reid his help and then turned tail at the first test, only because Reid had insisted he didn't need him.

Well, Morgan wasn't going to take that as an answer, even if he didn't know what the Hell he was up against. He wasn't going to let Reid face this alone.

His mind made up, he slammed on the breaks and pulled a U-turn in the middle of a two-lane street, tires screeching as he shot back in the other direction towards Reid's apartment. His thoughts had been chasing each other round and round since Reid had run away from him, and now that his mind was made up there was no going back. He only hoped he wasn't too late.

He pulled back into the exact same spot he had occupied before and killed the engine, throwing open the door and slamming it behind him as he ran towards the door of Reid's building. Luckily for him, an old man was just coming outside to walk his dog and Morgan was allowed to enter without the warning of buzzing up. He was certain Reid would be none to pleased to hear from him.

He took the stairs two at a time, and when he arrived on the fourth floor he jogged down the hall to Reid's apartment, promptly pounding on the door. "Reid?" he called. "Reid, it's Morgan! Open up!" He listened hard for any sound of movement behind the door, but when he heard none after a few seconds he pounded again. "Reid! Come on, kid, I know you're in there. Let me in!" Entirely possible Spencer was ignoring him, but he wasn't going to allow that.

Again there was no response, and Morgan fished his cell phone out of his pocket, flipping it open and hitting Reid's number. "You have reached the voicemail of Dr. Spencer Reid…" It hadn't even rung. He snapped the phone shut again and banged on the door with the side of his fist.

"Reid!" He was aware that he was probably waking up the neighbors on either side, but he only felt vaguely bad about it. He couldn't imagine that Reid was sleeping through this, small as his apartment was.

The thought made a sudden rush of adrenaline jolt through his body, setting his heart to beating double time. He swallowed hard, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. "Reid?" he called again, even louder this time, as he continued to hammer away at the door. "Reid!"

Still nothing.

Okay, Morgan was officially panicking now, and enough was enough. He lifted his foot and slammed it against the door, breaking the lock and throwing it open with a bang. He stepped inside and shut it hard behind him. "Reid?"

The living room and kitchen were almost completely dark other than the pale glow of a small lamp on an end table, a testimony to Reid's fear of the dark, and the flash of lightning outside. The storm was picking up further and thunder rumbled in the distance, growing ever closer.

The only thing that Morgan could make out were the shelves upon shelves and piles upon piles of books that covered every flat surface, half of the couch, one of the arm chairs, and were stacked in several places on the floor. Morgan had been to Spencer's place a few times before, and it seemed like whenever he was there the number of books had multiplied.

He gazed down the darkened hall before him and made out the golden outline of light seeping through a door frame. Every other light in the apartment was off. He started forward with a lump in his throat, the flashes of lightning showing his way. "Reid?" he called, and as the silence continued he felt the knot of fear in his stomach begin to grow. Oh, God, why hadn't he gone after him? Why had he run away after promising to help? Why had he left the kid alone?

He reached the door – the bathroom, he knew – and knocked lightly. "Reid?" he spoke more quietly now, trying not to frighten the young man. Spencer still didn't reply, but he stood quietly for a moment and from behind the door he thought he could make out the sound of hitched breathing.

"Reid," he said again. "I'm coming in, kid."

The doorknob turned easily in his hand, and he was glad that there was no need to break down another door. In the back of his mind he was shocked as Hell that there had been no commotion from the neighbors after he had busted through the front of Reid's apartment. Really not a great display of neighborly concern.

"Reid?" Morgan said softly as he pushed the door open and stepped into the bathroom beyond.

The first thing he saw was the blood splattered across the white tile floor, so much more horrifying to him than any crime scene he had witnessed. He felt the wind knocked out of him as though someone had punched him in the gut and he nearly staggered on his feet.

Then he looked up and saw Spencer's slight form huddled in the corner by the bathtub, his pajama clad legs pulled up to his bare chest. In front of him he held his left forearm clutched in his opposite hand, a pile of tissues futilely attempting to staunch the flow of blood. His entire forearm and the fingers of his right hand were red with it, along with a smear across his chest from where he held the injured limb tight against him.

Spencer looked up slowly, as though he had been completely unaware of Morgan pounding on the door and calling his name, and was only now realizing his presence. His hazel eyes gazed up at him, owlish and hollow, and Morgan had no doubt he was in shock. His face was white as a sheet and tear tracks made their way down his cheeks. There was a smudge of blood on his chin.

"Morgan?" he said softly, as though suddenly gaining recognition.

Derek felt his eyes burn and he dropped to his knees before the younger man, his strength draining from him in an instant. He felt like he was in shock as well. He may as well have been. He studied the young man's face and lifted his hand, tucking a lock of soft chestnut hair behind Spencer's ear. "Let me see your arm, baby," he whispered.

"Morgan?" Reid said again, a line of tension appearing between his brows. His eyes watered with tears. "I-I didn't mean to," he murmured. "It was an accident. I-I didn't realize…"

"Shhh…show me your arm."

"It-it was an accident." His voice was growing high with desperation. "I'm sorry, Morgan. I-I'm sorry…"

Slowly Morgan captured Spencer's left arm in his hands and pulled it gently away from the boy's chest, turning it over and removing the pile of bloody tissues. He felt his stomach turn.

"Spencer," he whispered, his voice breaking with anguish. "Baby boy, what have you done?"

TBC