As I drove back towards the city, I was a mess. I was crying so hard I could barely see the road in front of me, but I kept driving for hours. You can't drink while you're driving and you also can't answer your phone and since mine was ringing every thirty seconds with Penelope's name flashing on the screen, I figured it was safer to keep going rather than head back to my apartment. But eventually I was getting low on gas and I didn't want to get stranded so I was forced to head home and face my demons.

I already had a headache forming from the tears and the stress so, much to my surprise, I didn't even feel like drowning my sorrows when I got home, but I still definitely didn't feel like talking. I sent a brief message to Penelope telling her I was fine and sober, but exhausted and not up for a conversation before I took myself off to bed.

I felt like I was in a fog for the next few days. I went about my daily routine and taught my classes, but I felt like a robot, just going through the motions. Every time I checked my phone, I hoped there would be a message from Spencer and every time there wasn't, I couldn't figure out why I was disappointed. I wasn't ready to talk to him anyway. I was hurt and even if he apologized and assured me he didn't mean it, he'd planted a seed in my mind with his words and I knew it would take me a long time to shake my doubts.

I soon realized that it would take me a lot longer to shake Penelope though. We had one brief phone call the day after Spencer had snapped at me where I assured her that I was alright and not going to drink myself silly so she left me to my thoughts the following day, but today, three days after Spencer blew up at me, I was back to ignoring her calls. I knew she meant well. She'd always been there for me through things like this, she'd always been my shoulder to cry on so I could understand her concern at my self-imposed isolation, but I didn't want to talk. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to fix things with Spencer because I didn't know what changed between us and I didn't know how to get passed what he'd said.

A knock at my door pulled my from my thoughts and on autopilot I went to answer, not even pausing to think who it might be. So I was shocked when I saw Penelope on the other side looking at me like I might break any minute.

"Hey, Pen," I said quietly. "What're you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" She asked, pushing by me without waiting for an answer. "We need to have a chat."

"I don't want to chat," I sighed, closing the door behind her. "I don't even know what to say."

"I know that, but you're not going to figure it out here, moping around all by yourself are you, Princess?" She argued. "You need to talk to Spencer."

"I think he just needs some time..."

My voice was weak and I felt small. I wasn't this person. I didn't sulk over mean boys, but I couldn't stop the aching in my chest whenever his words filled my head or I closed my eyes and saw the look on his face when he spoke to me. Penelope's hands rested on her hips and I could tell I was in for a stern talking to.

"Uh, uh. No way. This is not the Mikayla I know," She started. "The Mikayla I know, storms into people's lives whether she's wanted there or not and demands they listen to her."

"But I wouldn't even know what to say," I insisted. "I don't understand where all this resentment has come from. Things were fine, great actually, until he came back from Atlanta and now suddenly he thinks we're not compatible for anything, but sex? It doesn't make sense to me."

My voice broke as I spoke and Penelope frowned, looking conflicted.

"It might make sense if you spoke to him about it," She insisted, but with a sigh she continued, mumbling under her breath like she was speaking more to herself than to me. "But I'm not even sure he'd tell you himself at this point."

"Tell me what?" I asked, my suspicions about there being much more to the story growing even more.

"I shouldn't be the one to tell you this, it's not my place and it's not my business and I don't know anything for sure," She prefaced her story. "But I think, and some of the team think, that Spencer's using drugs."

"Seriously?" I rolled my eyes in disbelief. "Spencer the genius hardly seems like the type to self medicate with drugs. He barely even drinks."

"Right you are, Mickey mouse," Penelope nodded. "Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't. But his kidnapper was forcing him to take a narcotic called Dilaudid. It's highly addictive and one of the signs is mood swings and a general snippy attitude. It's not just you he's lashed out at lately."

I was stunned. The thought never even crossed my mind, but I also couldn't believe no one thought that was an important detail to let me know.

"Has anyone confronted him?" I asked, bewildered. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Penelope shrugged.

"I think he's had words with Gideon, maybe Hotch, but we all thought that if he would tell anyone it would be you."

"We haven't talked much since he got back," I pointed out. "That first night he didn't want to talk and he was so tired that I didn't want to push him."

"Well nothing's confirmed, but he's not himself. Something is going on and that's the only logical conclusion I can think of," She informed me. "So will you talk to him now?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, a million new thoughts running through my head.

"I still think I should give him some time."

My answer drew a groan from Penelope as she dramatically threw her hands up in the air.

"He needs you. He didn't mean what he said. He was trying to push you away, but I can't believe it worked," She ranted. "If there's one thing I know about you, its that the more someone tells you to do something, the less likely you are to do it. So why are you letting him tell you to leave him alone?"

"Because he hurt me, Penny!" I reminded her, feeling myself getting annoyed. "I thought he cared about me and saw me in a different way to other guys I've been with and now I don't know what to think."

"You hurt me, Mickey," Penelope pointed out, her voice softer than it had been before. "But I gave you a second chance."

I opened my mouth to answer, but quickly closed it as I didn't have an argument for that one. Frustrated that she had a good point, I crossed my arms in a huff.

"I honestly really wouldn't know what to say to him. I don't know how to fix people who are abusing substances to deal with their problems. I only have experience being that person, I'd probably make things worse."

Penelope gave me a look that I knew meant I wouldn't like what she was about to say.

"I think you should tell him, Mickey," She said softly as if her low tone would stop me from flying into a panic at her words. It didn't. "I think you should tell him what happened to you and why you started drinking so much."


It took some convincing, but just over an hour later I found myself outside Spencer's door. I almost walked away, but after a few moments of internal debate, I knocked. It took a few minutes, but finally he opened it. He looked awful even though I would hazard a guess that I looked just as bad.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed past him and into his apartment without waiting to be invited in, but he didn't protest. He simply closed the door before turning to face me.

"Are you on drugs?"

I'd planned a million ways to start this conversation, but that definitely wasn't the one I'd decided to go with. From the look on his face, it wasn't what he expected either.

"What are you talking about, Mikayla?"

His voice was flat, void of emotion as he hid his shock, but the anger and disgust for me that I'd seen in his face a few days ago was thankfully also gone.

"I heard from a trusted source that you were given drugs while you were kidnapped and are potentially still using them now," I explained. "Which would help me understand just a bit why you've been treating me the way that you have this last month."

Spencer sighed, crossing his arms so his hands were covering the crooks of his elbows and it didn't take a profiler to assume that maybe he was subconsciously trying to cover something up.

"I'm sorry for how I spoke to you the other day and what I said," Spencer admitted. "It was uncalled for and mean, but what is going on in my life is none of your business."

It was a month ago, I thought to myself, but kept my gaze strong on his.

"Answer my question, Spencer."

"Yes."

His answer, even though it was the one I'd been expecting, shocked me. I'd been ready for more of a fight and really was hoping for a different result. How could Spencer, with his big genius brain, do something so reckless and risky?

"Why?" I asked quietly, my tone shifting from aggressive and annoyed to much calmer as my concern won out over my anger.

"It's not my fault," He snapped. "Tobias forced me to take them when I was with him. I was tied to a chair, I couldn't fight back. He gave me high doses to 'ease the pain' and Dilaudid is highly addictive."

"But you were only with him for a few days," I argued even though I knew realistically that was more than enough time for an addiction to settle in. "You could have talked to me. Why didn't you tell me what was going on instead of shutting me out?"

"I wasn't thinking clearly," He admitted, shaking his head softly. "That first night I was home was wonderful, but it wasn't real. I was happy to be with you and pretend everything was fine, but it wasn't."

"So why didn't you tell me?" I repeated. "I never expected you to be fine, I knew you'd been through something traumatic. I could've helped you, I know what it's like to feel like numbing yourself to the pain is the only option."

Spencer rolled his eyes as his snippy attitude returned.

"Of course you do," He said sarcastically. "Just because you partied too hard as a teenager and ruined your relationships with everyone you love because of it doesn't mean you understand what I'm going through. You made bad choices, Mikayla. I didn't have a choice."

My jaw tightened and I felt angry tears prick my eyes, but I held strong. I was determined to say what I came to say even though I wasn't as convinced as Penelope that it would be more of a help than a hindrance to Spencer.

"Don't stand there and pretend that you have no idea that something happened to me before I started drinking. I've alluded to it several times and I appreciate that you never forced me to talk about it, but you're a profiler for God's sake. I know you know there's something I didn't tell you," I reprimanded him. "I was raped when I was sixteen, Spencer. That's why I started drinking so much."

His jaw dropped and his hands fell to his side. He looked stunned as he stuttered out a reply.

"W-wh-what?"

I took a deep breath, hoping that this would be beneficial to him like Penelope hoped and not just add more stress to his plate as I expected.

"When I was sixteen I started hanging out with a new group of people and became quite close with one girl in the group. Her brother was older and in university so one night we decided to sneak out and go to a frat party that he'd mentioned," I began, my voice shaky with nerves as I hadn't told anyone this story in years. "It was fun at first. We had a few drinks, all the older guys were looking at us. I remember feeling so cool and grown up, but then one guy started talking to me. I was a bit tipsy so I flirted and enjoyed the attention. My friend had gone off to play beer pong at that point so when the guy asked if I wanted to go somewhere quieter to talk, I agreed. I didn't have any experience with guys and I wasn't looking to hook up or anything, but as soon as we got into one of the bedrooms, he started kissing me. I went along with it at first, but then when he started trying to get my shirt off I said no and tried to push him away. He ignored me and continued ignoring me as I said no the entire time until he was done."

A few tears were sliding down my cheeks by the time I was finished my tale, but I wiped them away as Spencer stared at me in shock.

"Wow, Mickey," He started, all the anger gone from his voice. "I'm so sorry. I-I didn't know."

"I know," I nodded. "I didn't want to tell you. I've moved on, I don't want it to be part of who I am anymore. But I do understand what you're going through, Spencer. You think that the drugs will make it all go away, make you forget the fear and the pain and it might for a while, but it all comes back eventually. And then you need more and more and it's just never enough."

Spencer chewed his lip nervously as he took in everything I'd just said to him.

"It's not just that," He insisted. "It's passed that point. I need it, I crave it. I think about it all the time."

"Are you still taking it?"

"Not today," He admitted. "I missed a plane. We were in New Orleans the last few days and they needed me and I didn't answer my phone. That combined with the way I've treated you. I realize I need help."

His words were so soft I could barely hear them, but they broke my heart. I was hurt and angry about what he'd said, but the Spencer standing in front of me was a shell of the Spencer I knew. I moved cautiously towards him, the way he'd looked at me just days before still fresh in my brain, but when he didn't move or snap at me again I gently wrapped my arms around him. Much to my relief, he returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around my waist as I rested my head on his chest.

"You're gonna get through this," I whispered to him, squeezing his thin body against mine. "I can help you."

Suddenly I felt Spencer stiffen so I reluctantly stepped back.

"I, uh, don't think that's a good idea," He said softly. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the tears that instantly filled my eyes as I realized I'd made the assumption that his words to me were just a result of the drugs. He'd said he was sorry for how he treated me, but just because he's sorry for how he handled things doesn't necessarily mean he wishes the end result was different. He must've seen my face fall because a worried look took over his as he reached for my hands. "It's not you, I promise. I just think this is something I should do by myself."

"Keeping it to yourself hasn't gotten you anywhere so far," I mumbled, feeling the sadness bubbling in my chest as I realized that while his reasons for ending things might not be so severe, the end was still in sight.

"I know," He nodded. "But I need to try. It'll be messy and unpleasant and I don't want you to be the one I take it out on anymore than you already have been."

"But what if I don't mind? Don't I get any say?"

"I need to do this on my own," He said firmly. "I just need some time."

I slid my hands from his, letting them fall at my side. My chest felt tight and it was taking almost all my concentration to keep my tears from falling, but I nodded my head.

"Alright," I choked out. "Well good luck, Spencer. I'm glad you're going to get help. I guess I'll...see you later?"

Spencer nodded and I stretched up to place a gentle kiss on his cheek before I walked by him and towards the door. I wanted to be alone, I wanted to be home, I wanted to be by myself so I could cry and scream and get out all of my sadness and disappointed. But Spencer's voice stopped me just as I opened the door.

"Mickey, wait," He said causing me to stop in my tracks, but I didn't turn around so he wouldn't see the tears that were sliding down my cheeks. He had to do what was best for him and my emotions shouldn't sway him. "I really am sorry. For what happened to you when you were young and for how I've hurt you."

I opened my mouth to respond, but a whimper was all that came out and I couldn't bare to turn around and face him so I simply closed the door behind me and walked away.


Note: I have to get up so early for work, but I got into the zone and couldn't resist posting this before I go to bed.

Thanks for all the love and comments by the way :)