Chapter 7 – New Friends

Essential Listening – Breathe Me, Sia

0o0

She smelled of strawberries.

It was all he could think about as his hands and mouth explored her creamy, soft skin.

He didn't remember how dancing with Agent Pearce had so abruptly evolved into this, and frankly, he didn't care. He couldn't even remember the walk back to the hotel, except that it had taken considerably longer than it should have, since they were both so distracted.

The itch that had been his constant companion since those long, dreadful days in Georgia had left him, and he almost delirious with gratitude – however temporary the reprieve might prove.

The woman in his arms consumed his every thought.

Her fingers seemed to dance across his skin, leaving tight trails of goosebumps in their wake. He shivered as they traced delicate patterns on his arms – his stomach – his chest.

She sighed into his mouth as his questing hands responded in kind, stroking her impossibly soft skin, slipping beneath the light fabric of her blouse.

He could feel her fumbling with his belt as he pulled her shirt buttons open, her kisses scorching him as they moved across his neck.

He breathed in the scent of her hair, with its tantalising strawberry aroma; it surrounded him as he pulled her impossibly closer.

It made him think of summers as a child, under the baking Nevada sun, hunting amongst the straw for velvety, scarlet treasure. More fruit had always ended up in his mouth than in the basket he was supposed to be filling, the irresistible sweetness of each strawberry running in rivulets down his chin as he devoured every last one.

He wanted to devour her.

They were kissing deeply now, hands grasping at each others' clothes, flesh, hair – tangling with one another, desperate for another moment of contact. Her breath was hot on his neck as she fumbled with his shirt.

He regarded her for a moment, and she wound her arms around his neck with that easy smile on her lips, sending him somewhere dark and needy.

His mind reeled drunkenly as he pressed kisses into her neck – his hair must have tickled her, because she laughed, the sound bursting joyfully into the room. He laughed too, at nothing in particular, and suddenly they were falling, falling into one another, down onto the bed.

0o0

Grace shifted comfortably in the sheets, the sleeping man beside her providing a comfortable and reassuring warmth.

For all her jokes she really hadn't expected anything to come of dancing with Dr Reid – but perhaps it had been inevitable. They were both far drunker than they should have been, given the circumstances.

It felt like forever since anyone had taken her to bed, and she couldn't find any fault with the way they had spent the evening. She had certainly needed it, and from the look of Dr Reid he'd needed it too.

She had a suspicion that they had both had the kind of year a person would rather forget.

And he wasn't exactly hard on the eye, either.

The buzz of the alcohol was fading now, and her thoughts were turning to the practicality of events. She hoped it wouldn't make her work life too complicated. She liked Dr Reid, despite the erratic behaviour she had seen so far, and she didn't want to jeopardise what could be a promising friendship – or, for that matter – her working relationship with the rest of the team.

She smiled wryly at the ceiling. Her old Governor – if he ever found out about it – would have nailed her to the wall. She was supposed to be starting over, getting a clean slate with these people – tracking down serial killers and other nefarious people, making a difference – not sleeping with the members of her new team.

Hell, she'd only met the man the day before.

She sighed, knowing there was no use worrying about it now. She would deal with whatever she'd brought on herself in the morning.

A plaintive whimper broke through her thoughts, and she half turned in the darkness. Reid was struggling against some unseen foe, clutching her closer in his fear.

"Spencer?" she asked, softly, concerned.

"No, please, I don't want it, I don't want it!" he cried out, trying to escape his tormentor.

"Spencer," she called again, turning fully into his arms and grasping his shoulder. His skin was clammy to the touch and he was glistening with cold sweat.

"No, please," he whimpered, and the terror in his voice made Grace's blood run cold.

"No, I don't – I want – no – no – no – NO!"

"Spencer!"

He fought against her as he woke and the nightmare fully left him, holding her tightly as he realised where he was – and who he was with.

He stared at her in the half-light, fear and horror mixed in his eyes. Grace maintained her hold on his arms, suddenly afraid that he might bolt from the room as he was, naked and terrified.

Fleetingly, she imagined explaining that to the rest of the team.

Better for all concerned if he stays here, she decided.

"It's ok," she said, gently. "It was a dream…"

He frowned, still breathing heavily, and pulled away from her. He drew his knees up to his chin and stared at the far wall, the sheet wrapping itself around his legs. Grace sat up, watching him carefully: something seemed to be welling up inside of him, and he was fighting to keep it hidden.

"It wasn't just a dream…" he said, so softly that she almost missed it.

His fingers were curled so tightly around his legs that they were almost completely white, his knuckles jutting out starkly against his pale skin.

"I'm sorry?" she asked, afraid of what he was about to tell her. Suddenly his odd behaviour and the way the team looked at him when they thought he wasn't looking made a lot more sense.

"It wasn't a dream," he said again, clearing his throat. It was as if each syllable took something away from him.

Grace stayed silent, unsure how to help her friend.

Reid cleared his throat again.

"We were… we were in Georgia," he began, barely louder than a whisper. In the quiet of the hotel room it sounded brash and harsh. "There was a…" he coughed. "This guy was murdering what he called 'sinners' – they were just ordinary people – posting their deaths on the internet…" He shivered, involuntarily. "We didn't know what we were dealing with.

"He was – he had a fractured psyche…" he continued, haltingly, frowning deeply. "There were three –" he coughed again, as if the words were choking him – "Three of them… Hankel, his sadistic father and an 'angel'. He thought he was an angel."

His voice was cracking with emotion and Grace found herself scooting closer to him; she wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

For a moment he didn't appear to notice her; a strange look crossed his features, but he made no move to pull away.

"They – he –" he took a breath. "JJ and I went to interview him – we thought he was just a potential witness – we had no idea until we got there. He ran out the back… I told her we should – we should split up. There was no cell signal and we couldn't just leave – he was on a psychotic break…

"JJ went into the barn – I went round the back… I could hear them in the corn, arguing…" he swallowed again and reordered his thoughts. "Him. I could hear him arguing… JJ – in the barn – there were these dogs – I heard her scream, and gunshots – I ran. I was so stupid.

His voice cracked and Grace gave his shaking shoulders a squeeze.

"I was so stupid – I thought she was…" he took another deep breath and rested his head against her shoulder. It was as if he was drowning, and each breath was a vital gulp of air. "He knocked me down and that's when I… he was both people at once – I didn't know about Raphael – the angel. Half of him wanted to shoot me, right there in the field – kept saying I was a demon, I'd come to test them – the other half tried to s-stop him."

Now that he had begun, words were beginning to tumble out of him in a rush, as though he couldn't keep them in any longer.

"He took me to this place – a graveyard – he tied me up… he h-hurt me… made me choose his next victim… made me watch them die…

"Tobias – the one that wanted to save me – he kept trying to help me… kept giving me –" he opened and closed his mouth soundlessly for a moment, as if the words were too hard for him. "He gave me Dilaudid," he managed, quieter than ever. "Said it would make it bet-better."

He rubbed at flesh of his inner arms and Grace closed her eyes, understanding.

"He – I… I saw my Mom… she's sick…" He sounded so lost and alone when he said it, Grace's heart ached for him. She caught one of his absently clawing hands and twined her fingers with his; he gripped her hand like a lifeline.

"He said I had to pay for my sins," said Reid, softly. "Made me get a shovel…" he shuddered against her, and Grace felt sick, wondering how he could have borne so much without breaking. "I saw the torches when I was digging the – my – grave… I distracted him, got his gun…

"I shot him," he whispered, his voice wavering. "He was dying – he was Tobias again… he asked if I thought he'd get to see his Mom again… he thanked me. Actually th-thanked me…"

Hot tears began to roll down Grace's neck.

"Because you saved him," she said softly. "You set him free."

Reid didn't seem to notice.

"When he was – the drugs and the pain – it – I died," Grace's grip on him tightened. "I think – I know – I died," he murmured. "And it felt better. Like nothing could hurt me anymore – I was glad…

"But he brought me back – gave me C.P.R. – and it was like the world snapped back into focus… Everything mattered – I was cold, and scared, and everything hurt, but I was alive." He took a deep, shuddering breath, and when he finally spoke his voice was choked with tears. "And I took that from him."

"You saved him," she repeated, firmly. "He was stuck in his own head with unimaginable evil and you set him free – Spencer –"

He curled into her, great sobs wracking his body.

"It's ok, Spencer, it's ok," she mumbled into his hair, privately certain that it really wasn't. "Just let it go…" she murmured, rubbing circles on his back.

She wondered whether he had let his guard down enough to let any of this out before and held him tighter, marvelling that anyone so outwardly brittle looking could keep all of this inside them and not simply shatter.

"I can't stop," he choked, as his sobs began to subside. "I tried, but I can't – I'm scared, Grace – I'm scared it's going to eat me alive."

"You're stronger than it," Grace told him, firmly. "Look, I'm sorry and all, but my arm's gone to sleep."

Reid mumbled something that sounded like an apology and pulled away from her; she grimaced as the blood flow returned to her limb.

"Here," she said, lying back down and pulling the sheets around them both; he settled against her almost shyly, embarrassed both by his candour and their nudity.

He watched her eyes in the darkness, afraid – she supposed – of what she might say. He shuddered abruptly and stared at his hands.

They were shaking uncontrollably.

"They won't stop," he said, in a small voice. "Unless I…"

Grace took his hands, lacing her fingers with his.

"The way you were holding on to your knees I'm surprised they aren't bruised," she said. "Quite apart from anything else, I'd imagine part of this is pins and needles."

"It isn't normally this bad," he admitted. "But it's not all needles and pins."

Grace nodded, sadly.

"How long?"

"Yesterday evening – b-before dinner… I can usually go for two days, but –"

Grace shook her head.

"Since Georgia."

"A couple of months," he admitted, miserably.

"Have you slept the night through, since?"

"Only when I…" he looked away from her, ashamed.

"Self-medicate?"

Reid nodded, self-consciously.

"I see the on-site counsellor every week," he mumbled, defensively. "And I passed my psych' eval'…"

Grace snorted.

"Yeah," she said. "But we all cheat on those."

He offered her a slight smile.

"There is that," he said.

"So, really you haven't spoken to anyone about this?"

"Not really," he admitted, heavily. "I wanted to deal with it on my own. Ethan tried to talk to me about –" he glanced at his arm. "But that's it… I think the others are ignoring it."

"Oh, love, you know as well as I do that they're trying to protect you," said Grace, and he bit his lip, acknowledging what was probably true.

There was a pensive silence – then:

"It's weird," said Reid, quietly, studying the sheet in front of him. "There's no way I could talk about this with any of the team, but with you…" He glanced up at her, then back down to the fabric. "It's much easier to talk to you."

"You haven't known me for very long," Grace said, fairly. "You don't have to worry that you're letting me down." He met her eyes and Grace caught the flash of pain there. "Not that you are," she assured him, firmly. "What you've been through beggars belief – anyone would be struggling right now."

"You think so?" he asked, in a small, doubtful voice.

"Daft thing," she said, rubbing his arm; he gave a wet chuckle.

They were silent for a few minutes, content to no longer be alone in the dark. Grace felt Spencer's hands beginning to tremble against her chest; she pulled him closer as he fought to control the tremors that were threatening to take him over. Accepting the tears that were coursing down his cheeks and onto her naked body, she stroked his back again, mumbling words of comfort into his hair.

When the shaking had passed and his breathing had quietened, he shifted against her – raising himself up on one elbow so that he could see her face.

"You won't tell anyone?" he asked, quietly.

"I won't," she assured him. "Though you should."

He nodded, unable to stop himself looking away.

"You're a very clever man, Spencer," she said, softly. "You've got to know it's killing you."

He nodded and sighed.

"I know it is," he admitted. "I know I need help…"

"I hear admitting that is one of the hardest things."

He chewed his lip, thinking deeply.

"When we get back to Quantico…" he looked at her. "You really believe I can do this, don't you?"

"Yes," she said, simply. "You've already decided to get help – and help yourself. It's not going to be easy," she added. "But, let's face it, nothing about this job is easy, and you still turn up every day, right?"

Reid appeared to be thinking this over; he shifted position again, settling back down against her chest. Grace allowed herself to relax, drowsy now.

"Grace?"

"Mmm?"

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

"Yes."

He nuzzled his face into her neck.

"Thank you," he mumbled, and Grace listened as his breathing calmed and slowed, and he finally fell asleep.

Careful not to wake him, she wrapped the sheets more firmly around her damaged new friend and settled herself down beside him, watching over him while he slept.

0o0o0o0

He rose to wakefulness slowly that morning, feeling safer and more relaxed than he had in a very long time.

Grace shifted slightly in her sleep and he opened his eyes slightly, remembering the events of the night before. He supposed he ought to be embarrassed, particularly now that the comforting bubble of alcohol had dissipated, but instead he felt oddly content.

He was aware that at some point in the near future he ought to shower, and that it would only be a matter of time before his hands started shake, but right in that instant he couldn't be bothered to care.

The woman beside him was warm and comfortable, and had stayed with him through the night, soft and stable as he fell apart… As an agent, she should have reported him immediately – and possibly called for an ambulance – but she hadn't.

She had held his hand in the darkness and told him that everything would be ok.

Oddly, and for no reason he could fathom, when she said it, he believed her.

Grace's cell phone chirruped noisily from the table and she groaned, reaching blindly for it and fumbling with the controls until it stopped.

She lay back and glared at the ceiling.

"Remind me not to get drunk on a school night again, ok?" she said, and he chuckled.

"Two out of three, right?"

Grace cracked a smile that looked like it hurt.

"My Gov' would be proud."

She glanced over at him and – unexpectedly – ruffled his hair in a friendly sort of way.

He found himself smiling back at her.

"Urgh," she said. "We should probably get up."

Reid nodded and rolled out of bed, sitting back down abruptly as his own hangover hit him.

"Argh."

"Here," she said, passing him a small bottle of orange pills. "Vitamin C – it'll help more than you think."

He took a couple gratefully and began pulling on his rumpled clothes.

Grace was rummaging in her backpack.

"Where's your go-bag?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"I came here straight from the airport in DC," she explained, her back to him. "And the daft bastards at the airline lost my luggage."

Reid grimaced.

"That sucks."

"Yep."

He looked away, suddenly feeling that he was intruding.

"I – uh – about last night…" he began, but Grace interrupted, turning to him with a smile.

"It's ok," she told him. "We both needed it, and I don't expect a repeat performance, or anything."

"I feel like I used you," he admitted, ashamed.

Grace laughed.

"If I'd objected you wouldn't have made it into the room," she said, and he snorted. "Anyway, my old unit held fast to the tenet of 'what goes in the field, stays in the field'."

He cleared his throat, embarrassed.

"Ok," he said, and managed to meet her gaze. "So…" he started, aiming to lighten the mood. "Does this make us friends?"

"Friends," she smiled, planting a light kiss on his cheek. She studied him for moment. "You know, if you ever need to talk, or a hug – or even someone just to be quiet with – come and find me."

"I might just take you up on that," he said, gratefully. "Grace?" he asked, pausing by the door. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"This…" he made an expansive gesture with the shoes in his hand. "Helping me – you've only just met me."

For a few moments Grace frowned, and he was afraid that he'd offended her.

"I went through a bit of a rough patch a little while ago," she said, slowly. "And it felt like I was completely alone. I asked the people I cared about for help – all I would have needed was a hug, or a talk… and I know they couldn't just drop everything… but I begged them for help, and no-one came."

She looked up at him then and he saw something fierce in her manner.

"I want you to know that you're not alone in the dark."

"Thank you," he said, unsure how to react to her admission. "If you ever need someone…" he offered.

"I'll know where to come," she nodded.

"Ill – uh – see you at the station?"

Another nod.

"Great," he said, and hurried across the corridor, glad that it had been deserted.

He felt lighter this morning than he had done in months, more centred.

For the first time in a long while, he met his own eyes in the bathroom mirror.

He stared at the dark bruises underneath his eyes, trying to remember when he had become so pale and drawn.

He looked weak and weary; he marvelled at his friends' tolerance of him. Ethan was right – there was no way anyone could have missed it.

He took a steadying breath as he did up his tie.

He was going to beat this.

0o0o0o0

"Morning," said Grace as she dropped her bag in an empty seat. The stations was bustling with activity despite the early hour, everyone desperate to get ahead of their killer. She guessed that she hadn't been the only one to skip breakfast that morning.

Prentiss and Morgan glanced up from their paperwork and nodded, looking weary.

"Long night?" she asked, wincing on their behalf.

"We got back at dawn," Prentiss explained, stretching.

"Jet sleep," said Morgan. "It's not like real sleep."

Grace grimaced and gestured at the reports in front of them.

"Want me to take a couple of those?" she asked. Prentiss slid a few over to her with a grateful smile.

"Have a good night in the Quarter?" asked JJ, walking over with another stack of files.

"Yeah – I ended up in a blues bar, it was pretty good."

JJ nodded, and Grace turned back to her paperwork, wondering why JJ was giving her such a curious look.

She turned away from them to meet Detective LaMontagne as he came down the stairs.

"Hey," said JJ.

"So I've alerted the department, updated the B.O.L.O.," he said, striding purposefully towards his desk.

"Good," said JJ, following him. "We need to set up a press conference."

"We're not makin' a media spectacle outta this," said LaMontagne, annoyed.

"People need to know that this killer is a woman."

LaMontagne stopped abruptly and turned to her, clearly frustrated.

"What?" JJ asked.

"Listen," he said, in a low voice. "Tourists are just startin' to filter back here."

"That's not the issue," JJ frowned.

"I can't create mass hysteria in a city tryin' to rebuild," LaMontagne argued. "Besides, we'd be playin' right into her hands."

"So be it," JJ shrugged, stubbornly.

They both sighed, neither wanting to argue.

"Look," said JJ, almost gently. "I'm trying not to go above your head here…" she trailed off, pointedly.

Detective LaMontagne sighed again.

"Yeah, I got that," he admitted.

"Then set up the press conference," said JJ, in a tone that could not be argued with. She followed him into the back of the station.

"Hey, you guys back from Galveston?" asked Reid, coming in. Morgan and Prentiss looked up from their files.

"First light this morning," said Morgan, annoyed. "Where were you?"

Grace kept her features impassive; fortunately, neither Prentiss nor Morgan were looking at her.

"Uh, I was out with a friend, I already told you," said Reid, exuding false cheeriness. It wasn't working. He rummaged in his messenger bag, avoiding eye contact.

"I called you four times," said Prentiss, unimpressed.

"I didn't have any cell phone reception, so I didn't get your message until late," Reid lied.

Grace marvelled at him: lying was clearly not his strong suit.

"Ri-ight," said Prentiss, unconvinced. She turned back to the files in front of her.

Reid glanced at Grace, who gave him the tiniest of shrugs.

"So, what's going on?" he asked.

"Our UnSub's a woman," Morgan announced, giving a look.

Reid looked at Grace.

"You were right," he said, with the barest quirk of an eyebrow.

Get in! thought Grace. Out loud, she said:

"Do try not to sound so surprised."

She smiled lightly to let him know she wasn't annoyed.

"Sorry."

Grace looked up as Agent Hotchner walked in, grateful for any intrusion into the frosty atmosphere at the table.

"They just found another body in the Quarter," he said.

Grace rubbed her face, frustrated.

"Not much of a cycle," Prentiss grumbled, as they gathered their things.

"We have got to get this girl," said Morgan.