Title: Pride
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made
Rating: PG
Summary: Pride is important.
Spencer looked out at the blurring landscape, thinking about Mr Corbett. He knew that it would take a lot more than a conviction, a token part of his daughter and a poem to bring the man peace. He knew it would take anybody suffering a loss more than empty words to find peace.
Looking to his side, he attempted to asses Hotch inconspicuously. It was clear that when he'd asked about Mr Corbett's attempts at finding closure, he wasn't just talking about the grieving father. He'd been talking about himself, his divorce. His own loss.
He'd been surprised when Hotch had confided in him about his pending divorce but now, he felt as though he had an obligation to ensure that his boss, his friend, was okay.
"Hey," He said, realized he had a way to break the ice, "You were pretty awesome on the stand yesterday. I think that lawyer will think twice before questioning profiling again."
Chuckling lightly, Hotch said, "Sometimes they make it too easy."
Spencer nodded, laughing his agreement before realizing that his plan had failed; he still didn't feel comfortable asking the man if he was okay.
"I'm fine Reid."
Spencer's eyes widened and darted to Hotch. Had he said that out loud?
Seeing his shocked and confused expression, Hotch smiled somewhat sadly, "Lawyers aren't the only ones who make it easy sometimes."
Spencer was speechless. He supposed he could probably have been more subtle, what with his staring and long pauses. "Sorry."
Hotch's smile remained as he said, "That's okay. I'm ... not great. But, I'm okay."
"I'm glad. And it's clear that you haven't let it effect your work, we won this one pretty much entirely because of you." Pausing before saying what he really wanted to, he finally blurted out, "I'm proud of you." Closing his eyes, he winced. God, that was such a lame thing to say.
"Thank you." Hotch replied after a moment, tone ambiguous. His next words however where laced with meaning, "I'm proud of you too."
Spencer's brow wrinkled, "What for?"
Glancing at him for a moment before looking back at the road, Hotch said, "If I recall correctly, it was one year tomorrow that you asked me for a week off work for ... personal reasons."
Spencer's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe Hotch had remembered that. He'd barely remembered.
Hotch, correctly identifying Spencer's silence as shock, said, "I'm not about to forget something like that Reid. And I meant what I said, I'm proud of you, I know I couldn't have done that alone." His expression soured before he mumbled, more to himself that Spencer, "You shouldn't have had to do that alone."
As they stopped at a red light, Hotch took a deep breath and turned to him, "I'm sorry Spencer."
Caught off guard by both the guilty sorrow in Hotch's eyes and the use of his first name, Spencer simply said, softly, "You have nothing to be sorry for."
He meant that. Tobias may have injected him, but he was the one who chose to steal the drugs from his dead body. He was the one who chose to push the needle into his vein each time after that. Nobody was to blame for that but him and maybe Tobias at a stretch. Certainly not Hotch.
Turning back in his seat, Hotch sighed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel, "I have a lot to be sorry for."
Spencer knew that statement was about a lot more than his addiction but, just like back at the courthouse, he didn't know what to say to make him feel better. To assure him that everything would work out. To comfort him.
So he didn't say anything.