Thought I should mention…there is going to be a very close Morgan/Reid friendship in this, but it is not slash. I have nothing against MoReid slash (one of my all-time favorite CM fics is a slashfic set right after Henkel and dealing with the whole drug thing—Feed the Fire Within by NatNazzy if you're interested; it's brilliant), but it doesn't feel right for this story, and I don't think I can write it well. Otherwise, thank you to my reviewers QuirkyRevelations, OblivyChan, and NatNazzy, and enjoy the chapter!
Reid threw his things in his room, exhausted and shaking. He had been with his team for several hours, first at the BAU, then on the jet, then at the police station starting on their new case. His body was starting to enter withdrawal, and he needed his fix. He desperately dug in his bag, fumbling for a vial and a needle.
Just as he found his prize, there was a knock on the door. Muffling a curse, he dropped the things and went to answer the knock.
Morgan stood there, bags in his hands. The delicious scent of Chinese wafted from them.
"Hey, kid," he said. "I got food, and there's a game on. Want to sack out and watch with me?"
Reid sighed. He knew that Morgan was trying to be friendly, even though he knew Reid was not a huge sports fan (to be perfectly honest, he hadn't even the slightest idea which sport Morgan was referring to). Trying to get close to Reid, to show his friendship and support, after what had happened with Tobias Henkel. He couldn't really turn Morgan down, not without looking suspicious, so he moved aside to let his coworker in.
Morgan collapsed on the couch, and started setting out the food. Reid perched agitatedly on his bed, hands folded in his lap to hide their shaking. He kept himself from glancing longingly at his bag, feeling the pull of the Dilaudid stashed carefully in the bottom. He didn't want to give Morgan any reason to look through that bag, and while he didn't think the other profiler would, it was best to take no chances.
"Hey, Reid, you all right, man?" Morgan asked concernedly, the question the whole team had been asking Reid at every tiny sign anything was not perfectly fine with their genius. They were alternating between treating him like the strongest person they knew and like a delicate glass figurine that could break at the slightest misstep. After all, they had seen a good deal—but not all—of what had gone on in that little shack in Georgia.
"Uh…yeah," Reid stuttered. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just, um, tired. I haven't been sleeping well." It wasn't technically a lie. He had not gotten a full, unbroken night's sleep since he had been found in those woods, digging his own grave. Nightmares had plagued him, and he woke often in a cold sweat, remembering what had happened to him at the hands of Tobias, Charles, and Rafael. Often Dilaudid was the only things that allowed him to calm back down again.
Morgan's sharp gaze softened. "I get it, kid. You went through things out there that no one should have had to go through. Nightmares are to be expected." He smiled at Reid, the bright smile he reserved only for his closest friends, and grabbed the remote. Flicking through the channels, he reached ESPN. "Mets versus Phillies."
Baseball, then. Reid breathed a sigh of relief. He was still not a fan, but baseball made more sense to him then football or any other sport. It was more straightforward—a player crossed home plate, his team got a point. No weird things that are worth more or less points than others. He could handle baseball. Even, presumably, in his current state.
Reid grabbed the container of pork fried rice—one of his favorites—and nearly dropped it due to the extreme shaking of his hands.
Morgan looked up concern. "What was that, Reid?"
"Nothing," Reid lied, not very convincingly. Morgan looked dubious, but dropped the topic, deciding to give Reid the benefit of the doubt.
Reid served himself—carefully, this time—and watched the game, eating slowly. Morgan reacted to event happening on the screen, but clearly did not expect Reid to—he never did.
Finally, finally, the game ended, and Morgan left, taking the leftover Chinese and empty cartons with him. Reid could have cried in relief. He all but ran to his bag as soon as Morgan was gone, digging out the drugs he so desperately craved.
Turning his tie into a makeshift tourniquet, he was finally able to get some measure of relief. He despised himself for it, but it felt so, so good. Better than any other stress reliever.
After changing into an oversized Cal Tech t-shirt and sweatpants, Reid crawled into his bed and rode out the high, then fell asleep, back into the waiting arms of his nightmares.