*I know in the episode, Emily and Spencer play cards and Spencer loses, but I'm taking artistic license on that scene and redoing it the way I want. Sorry, folks. Hope that doesn't bother you. If you want, imagine this scene happens AFTER that closing clip on CM :)*
The cup of tea that Spencer cradled in his hands shook ever so slightly, threatening to slosh the hot liquid out and onto his skin. He fought hard not to grimace and quickly settled the mug onto the table in front of him. He kept his fingers curled around it and wished there was something just a little bit stronger than tea in there. Something that could numb his mind just the slightest bit right now. That thought inevitably led to another and Spencer closed his eyes and fought back the wave of longing that crested over him. He ignored the little voice that lived inside of his mind, telling him that there was one thing that would make him numb. One thing that would make it all go away for a while. I don't need it. I don't need it. I'll be just fine. The reminder fell just a little flat this night.
It shouldn't have been so hard for him. Opening his eyes once more, he turned his head and looked out at the darkness outside the jet window. This shouldn't be so difficult for me. We solved the case. We saved the girl! That should be what I'm focused on! But that wasn't what was haunting him. That wasn't what had him sitting on the far end of the jet, as far away from the rest of the team as he could possibly get. And that wasn't what had his hands trembling so much that it shook the cup he held. No, what stuck in his mind, what he couldn't seem to make go away, were the words. Every single word in every single journal that he had sat right there on that little milk crate and read, sifting through them to try and find some piece of information that might be able to help them, all the while his eidetic memory taking those words and filing them away in that special place inside his mind that never, ever let him forget.
He tried to focus on the heat of the cup or the scent of the peppermint tea to distract himself from the thoughts inside his head. Anything to engage his senses and pull him from inside his head and to reality. Anything to keep him from thinking of the horrific details the Unsub had clearly written out in his journals. Anything to keep him from thinking, wanting, craving, needing, the release he knew he could find in just one single needle…
Despite the tremble in his hands, he somehow managed to take a drink of the tea without spilling it everywhere. Then he was setting the cup back down and adjusting in his seat. Think of something else. Anything else. He needed some kind of a distraction.
A distraction came in the form of one Derek Morgan. His best friend suddenly appeared beside the table and then slipped down into the seat across from him. In his hands, Spencer saw a deck of cards. Derek said nothing at first, simply got comfortable and then started to shuffle. When he was done, he dealt out two hands before picking up his own cards, just as casual as could be. He didn't say anything about the obvious tremble to Spencer's hands when the young genius reached down and picked up his cards. Nor did he mention anything about the lack of conversation from a usually verbose friend. Instead, he simply played out the first hand, losing miserably, after which he dealt out yet another hand.
They were on their third game before Derek finally spoke. When he did, it had nothing whatsoever to do with the case. "Got any big plans when we get home, kid?"
"No." The word was just a little softer than normal, but it sounded more normal than it would have twenty minutes ago. Clearing his throat, Spencer tried again, making himself focus only on the cards and conversation. "No, not really."
Derek darted his gaze up toward the rest of the jet, looking toward where their friends sat, before looking back at his cards and lowering his voice just the slightest bit. "No plans with Remy?"
Spencer shook his head. "None." He tried not to go to Remy when a case was still bugging him this strongly. It had been three months since he'd first met the Cajun in his bar and they'd gotten together quite a few times since then. They'd actually gone out a few times, off to a meal or to the movies. Sometimes they bypassed going anywhere and simply went to Spencer's apartment, or over to Remy's cozy little house. On nights that he'd had Andrei and hadn't been able to come out and see Spencer, the two had often talked on the phone once the little boy was in bed. Between Andrei, Lagniappe, and Spencer's work, it was proving just a little difficult to see one another as consistently as they wanted, though almost all their free time was spent together. However, it was also proving very worth it. Never before had Spencer ever felt like he clicked with someone. He'd always thought that saying made no sense until he felt it when he was around Remy. There was no tension there between them, no awkwardness or nerves that usually assailed Spencer when he was with people. It was just easy and comfortable and so very, very…wonderful. But he tried very hard to keep his work life away from his personal if at all possible. He didn't want things like this to taint the time he had with the man.
"Maybe you should give him a call, even just to chat. I'm sure he'd love to hear from you." The words were casual; the message behind them wasn't. Derek was discreetly letting Spencer know that he knew he was having problems, just as he knew that talking to someone could help. And talking to Remy always put him in a good mood.
No one else but Derek and Penelope knew about Spencer and Remy. Despite how well Penelope had taken it, he still hadn't been able to bring himself to tell the others. There was speculation, Spencer knew, that he had someone new in his life. However, none of them had any idea whatsoever that the 'someone new' was a man. Why he hadn't told them, he couldn't quite fully explain to even himself. Remy said that he understood and that he was fine with it. How he understood when even Spencer didn't understand, well, that was a mystery. But when he'd pointed that out, Remy had simply patted his cheek and smiled and once again said it was fine. Two of Spencer's friends knew about him and for now, that was enough for him.
Spencer laid his cards on the table, barely taking any notice of his winning hand. He chewed on his bottom lip and stared down at the cards as Derek shuffled them. A quick glance showed that the others were still far enough away and busy enough with talking that they shouldn't be able to hear this conversation. Only then did he feel safe enough to say "I don't…I don't want to bring work home with me. It's not fair to put that on him."
"Then you might as well break it off now."
Those blunt words had Spencer's eyes snapping up to Derek's face. What? "Excuse me?"
Without breaking stride in his shuffling, Derek flashed a look up at him. "You heard me, Reid. If you can't even talk to him to help you feel better after a case has you feeling rough, if you feel like you can't have him help you shoulder the way work makes us feel sometimes, then it's better to break it off now." Calmly, Derek set the now shuffled cards down in a neat pile in the middle of the table. Then he sat back and looked right at Spencer's face. "Maybe the average person can keep their work and home life completely separate. Good for them. But we're not average people. You are not the average person. You more than any of us are stuck taking our work home with you, whether you like it or not. That big brain of yours makes sure of that. If you can't bring that around the person you're dating, if you feel that they can't handle it or if you're always trying to keep it away from them, you're doing yourself and the other person an injustice. You need to be with someone you not only care about, but trust, and who trusts and cares about you. Either he can handle it or he can't, kid. But you can't shelter him from it."
"Can't I? There's no reason he has to know the things we see, Morgan."
"And what're you gonna do when you wake up in the middle of the night with a nightmare?" Derek countered. "Or what about if you get hurt on a case again? You just gonna brush it off and tell him nothing and expect him to be okay with that? You just gonna roll over at night and deal with it on your own and shut him out? That's not fair to either one of you and you know it. He's not Paul, man. He's not gonna brush you off." That last statement was like a blow, setting Spencer back in his seat. Derek tempered it with a gentle look. "And if it counts for anything, I don't think it'll make him run. From what I've got to know about him, I think he'll surprise you. But you gotta give him the chance, Reid."
There was nothing Spencer could think of to say in response to that. He couldn't deny the truth behind his friend's words. If a nightmare struck or if he was injured—something that happened far too frequently—would Remy really just let him brush it off without explanation? No. And he shouldn't have to. I wouldn't want that if the roles were reversed. But could he really bring this part of his life home? They'd only been seeing one another for a few months now. Well, three months and two days, but he doubted anyone else would count it out quite like him. He could add the hours and minutes in there too if needed. Still, Remy knew his line of work. That hadn't been kept secret. He knew the type of people they hunted. Wouldn't he sort of expect Spencer to occasionally bring part of that home with him?
If he was honest, Derek had neatly summed it up right at the end there. No matter how much he told himself that he was doing this to protect Remy, that he was trying to keep work away from a person he was growing to care about more and more, the honest truth was that he was terrified Remy was going to react badly or, or react like Paul. Paul hadn't reacted badly—he just hadn't wanted to hear it. He hadn't been cruel or anything of the like. He'd simply said he didn't feel comfortable hearing those kinds of terrors and if Spencer brought it up, he would either leave the room or ignore him. Spencer didn't know if he could bear Remy doing that. I'll never know if I don't give him the chance, just like Morgan said.
When Spencer looked at his best friend once more, he gave him a small hint of a smile. "Thank you." That was all he said. It was all he needed to say. Derek nodded back. "You're welcome." Then he picked up the cards once more, dealing out a new hand.
Forty minutes later, Spencer was making his way out of the BAU, heading over towards his car. As he did, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Only when he was sitting in the driver's seat with the door closed did he actually look down at the phone and make himself dial a number he had memorized. You can do this. You can do this. It's not difficult. You can do this!
Two rings and then a warm voice flowed over the line. "Spencer! You got great timing. I just finished my shift at the bar. How's the case coming along?"
Just hearing his voice was enough to have some of Spencer's tension start to drain away. "Hey, Remy. We just got back home."
"Are you doing okay? You sound…not too happy."
"Actually…" Moment of truth here, Spencer. You can do this! "Are you, um, are you busy?"
Remy's reply came almost instantly. His voice was much more alert and there was a note of concern there now. "Non. What's wrong?"
"I just, well, this case was, um, it was a little rough. I…I don't really want to be alone tonight." There, you said it. Oh please, please, don't let him laugh at me. Don't let him brush me off. Please!
All his worries vanished with the quickness of Remy's response. "I'm leaving Lagniappe right now, mon chéri. I can meet you at your place or I can swing by and pick you up from work if you need me to."
Warmth filled Spencer's stomach, chasing back some of that nauseous feeling that had been sitting there for most of the case. He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the headrest on a soft sigh of relief. "I can drive home. You'll actually beat me there by seven and a half minutes if you're leaving right now."
"I'll be waiting for you. Drive safe, Spencer."
"You too." Closing his phone, Spencer looked down at it. His stomach had settled just slightly and his hands felt a little steadier. His head had cleared a bit as well. All of that just because you talked with him. And he didn't turn you away, either! He didn't make fun of you or brush you off or anything. In fact, he's hurrying to your place to be with you. Spencer carried the warm feeling of that with him the whole way home.
As promised, Remy was waiting for him when he arrived at his apartment. The now familiar bike was parked right alongside where Spencer usually parked and there was a lone figure sitting on it, wrapped in that trench coat he always wore. The warm feeling that was inside of him grew even more when he parked the car and stepped out and Remy instantly moved forward to embrace him. Remy's arms were tight around him and Spencer's face was buried against the man's neck, inhaling the vanilla and cinnamon scent of Remy's body wash. It was a homemade blend his Tante sent him and Spencer loved how it smelled on his skin. For just a moment he stood there and reveled in the strength being offered. Eventually the two pulled back, though not far. Remy's hand came up to cup his cheek, holding him in place so he could dip down and steal a kiss while his thumb stroked over Spencer's cheekbone. "Hey." Remy said softly.
"Hey."
The two shared a smile and another soft kiss before they moved apart. Spencer grabbed his go-bag from the backseat and then Remy was taking his hand as they made their way inside. They didn't say anything else until they were inside and the door was both shut and locked. Remy waited until Spencer had locked the door before once more taking him and pulling him in close. Spencer let his go-bag drop to the ground and he slipped his hands inside of Remy's leather trench coat, burrowing in against him. Suddenly it was just a little bit easier to breathe. The weight that was on his heart, on his shoulders, didn't feel quite so heavy anymore. Somehow, in this man's arms, everything just became easier.
Never before could Spencer ever remember someone holding him so close, so carefully, and yet so strong all at the same time. He couldn't remember anyone but his mother who had ever hugged him simply because they thought he needed it. He'd said nothing, done nothing, yet Remy had just seemed to know that he needed this embrace right now. Most people assumed that Spencer didn't want something like this. They saw the way he'd flinch at a surprise touch or how he often waved instead of shaking hands and they took it to mean he suffered from mysophobia—a pathological fear of contamination and germs— or that he didn't want to be touched, ever. Few people realized that it was an old fear that he could never get to quite go away that any touch was going to be a bad one. But here Remy was, holding him like he was something precious, something special, and the world was just a little bit steadier than it had been before.
A hand stroked over Spencer's hair, a soothing sort of gesture, followed by the low murmur of Remy's voice. "C'mon, let's get you sitting down and get your extras off, oui?"
Spencer reluctantly detached himself from Remy, only enough to allow the man to lead him over to the couch. They stopped at the edge of it and Remy reached for the buttons on his cardigan, starting to unhook them so that he could get Spencer's 'extras' off. While he unbuttoned that, Spencer reached up and loosened his tie before pulling it over his head. Remy took that from him and then took the sweater when Spencer shrugged it off. Spencer sat himself down on the couch to remove his shoes while he watched Remy disappear down the hall, most likely to put those items in the laundry basket. When he came back out, he was pulling his backpack off and setting it on a chair and then taking his coat over to hang up on the tree rack by the door. Spencer realized that Remy had been here often enough that they were both comfortable and at ease with his presence here. He moved easily through the apartment.
By the time Spencer had his shoes off and tucked underneath the coffee table, Remy was back over and his own shoes were off, set by the tree by the door. The older man didn't hesitate to settle onto the couch but then he surprised Spencer slightly. He patted a hand on his lap and smiled at him. "Put your head down here, Spencer. Stretch yourself out." He said. The almost instant blush that hit Spencer's cheeks had Remy letting out a husky chuckle. He rolled his eyes and his smile grew just slightly. "Get your mind outta the gutter, at least for now. Just lay down, would you?"
Still a little pink-cheeked, Spencer nonetheless turned his body, lying down on the couch with his head pillowed in Remy's lap. His cheek was against the man's thighs, eyes facing outwards like he was going to watch TV. As soon as he settled in, a hand started to stroke through his hair. Spencer found himself sighing slightly, relaxing down into the touch. Almost against his will his eyes drifted shut. This was far more soothing than he'd thought it would be. He brought one hand up, letting his fingers curl over Remy's thigh right in front of his face, adding another touch to their connection. For a while they just stayed there in the quiet and there was no awkwardness in it. No pressure to fill that silence. Maybe that was why he suddenly found it so easy to speak; no one was pressuring him to do it. "I should be celebrating. We managed to get a girl home today. She's back with her family now. Everyone else is celebrating that. I should be too."
He paused, but Remy said nothing, only continued to stroke his hair. After a second more of silence, Spencer kept going. "The Unsub staged himself for us. He rented space and set up a wall of all his kills that was in chronological order. He called 911 to report a body and then proceeded to shoot himself. The authorities had scheduled an interview with him and instead of risking it, he chose to give himself up this way, committing suicide. Later, we discovered he'd done it to protect his wife and unborn child." Images and words swam in Spencer's mind and he clenched his eyes shut just a little bit tighter, turning his face in toward Remy's legs a little more. "He left stacks and stacks of journals there. They were our only real lead to find the last girl up on his wall of victims. Incredibly detailed journals. And I, I know they needed me to read them. I mean, I read the fastest and retain the most information when I read. I retain it all. But therein lies the problem. For them, the case is over and it had a happy ending. But I can't, I mean…I keep thinking about the, the journals and all the things he put in there and I just, God, the amount of depravity a human is capable of is just…" Unable to continue, his voice trailed off. Choked off, more like. Emotion clogged his throat.
Remy made a soft, distressed sound, the first noise he'd made since he'd settled Spencer's head in his lap. The hand in his hair froze before cupping his head. "Oh, pauvre bête." Remy smoothed back his hair and bent down, pressing a kiss against the side of Spencer's head. "Je suis désolé. I'm sorry that you have to live with that in your head."
He didn't remind Spencer of all the good he did with his memory or remind him why he did what he did. Remy didn't tell him that he'd saved someone's life or point out how many times his skills had done just that. Instead, he was curled almost protectively around him as if he could shelter Spencer right there in his lap.
Spencer kept his eyes closed, but he relished in the warmth that was cocooning him. "I'll get it all locked away eventually." He said softly. "I always do. I should be celebrating like everyone else. I shouldn't be like, like this."
"Non, Spencer." Remy cut him off. He put a hand on Spencer's shoulder, pulling until the young genius was lying on his back. When Spencer blinked his eyes open, he was staring straight up into Remy's face, those beautiful green eyes locked on him with a serious, earnest expression. One of Remy's hands came up to stroke over Spencer's cheek. "Maybe at work you gotta push this back and be the tough guy. But you're not at work here. This is your home and you're entitled to feel any way you want. You've got every right to feel this way! Not everyone could live with the things in their head that you do. I see such strength when I look at you."
"I'm not strong." The denial was almost instantaneous. Spencer hated when people told him he was strong. He wasn't. He knew he wasn't. Shame coiled tight in Spencer's gut and had him closing his eyes once more. Right here and now, he knew what he had to say. Knew what he had to explain to Remy before this night went any further. Bile threatened in the back of his throat only to be shoved down. You've known this was coming. Better now than never, right? "Do you know why I cannot be alone tonight, Remy?" Before Remy could answer, Spencer jerked up out of his lap, unable to just lie there for this. He pulled himself over to the other end of the couch, bringing his feet up so that his knees were against his chest. Then he made himself admit one of the hardest things for him. "I'm a recovering addict, Rem. I couldn't handle the idea of being alone tonight because I'm afraid I'll go out and score so I don't have to think. If you hadn't been able to be here, I'd be on Morgan's couch right now."
Fear and heartache had Spencer saying things he might never have otherwise dared. But this had come out and now the rest of it was pouring from him and there was no way to stop it. His secrets were coming out and if Remy ran, then so be it. Too agitated to sit, his usual shields cracking, Spencer shot to his feet to pace the floor of his living room, words starting to tumble from him with no real semblance of order to them. No real, obvious connection. His secrets were coming out in one big speech, whether he was ready for them or not. "Do you realize what you've gotten yourself into with me? I'm a wreck, Remy. I'm not a healthy person. I'm an addict who suffers from PTSD. I've been clean for two years, one week, and two days, but I'm always going to be an addict. Then, then, there's the chance that one day I could end up like my mom. She's a paranoid schizophrenic that I had to commit to an institution when I was eighteen. When I was ten, my Dad bailed on us and left me to care for her, despite the fact that she could barely remember to care for herself." Aching, Spencer paced away, one hand coming up to run through his hair while his other arm wrapped around his waist. "I'm not a healthy person and I never, ever should've let things get this far between us. Not with all of this. I have no right to be around someone else like this…"
"Now wait a second." For the first time since the ramble started, Remy spoke up. He rose from the couch, eyes locked on Spencer's face. "Just wait a second, cher. Let's sit and talk about this…"
Spencer shook his head. "No. Remy, I'm not the right person for you. Look at me!" He held a hand out, showing how badly it shook. "I'm a mess. It's not right and it's not fair to expect you to take on so much with me."
"I'm not gonna run cause you're an ex-addict and I'm not gonna run cause your Mama's sick, Spencer." Remy said slowly. "I don't even know my real parents. For all I know, I've got some things in my medical history with them that could be just as bad or worse. Is that gonna make you wanna walk away from me?"
"Of course not!"
"Then what makes you think I'm shallow enough to walk away from you?"
Aching, Spencer licked his dry lips, fighting back the sick feeling in his stomach. "Because you don't know. You don't know what I did. You don't know about Tobias."
A gentle hand rested on his shoulder and Spencer's eyes snapped up to find Remy right there in front of him. "Then tell me." Remy said simply. And looking at him, Spencer couldn't do anything else. He nodded before letting Remy lead him back to the couch. When they were settled once more, facing one another, Remy took Spencer's hands in his and Spencer used those hands as an anchor. He looked down at their interlaced fingers as he started a story he hated. "The team and I were on a case in Georgia…"
It took a half an hour for Spencer to fully tell the story of Tobias Hankel. He left nothing out, telling Remy of the case building up to it, the murders, the trip with JJ to the house to interview Tobias. Then he told him about his days in the shack. His voice was hoarse and his eyes watered, but he told it all. It was when he spoke of shooting Tobias at the end that a few tears escaped; the only tears he let free. He didn't stop his story there, though. He continued on, speaking candidly with someone for the first time about the days that followed. About how he let himself fall into the Dilaudid that Tobias had hooked him on, how it numbed his brain so he didn't have to remember. And how he'd finally managed to get himself clean, to start going to meetings, and get his life back. Head bowed, he laid it all out, exposing himself in a way he hadn't ever before. When he was done, he felt slightly hollow inside.
Remy's hands were gripping his tightly. "Spencer." His name was just a soft whisper, tight with emotion.
Still looking down, Spencer shivered slightly. "I can handle the scent of fish now, unless it's gone bad or it's burned. But the smell of regular fish doesn't bother me. But I can't handle the feel of metal on my wrists. And sometimes I have a hard time hearing anything from Revelations. Sometimes I, I still have nightmares. But I've kept clean. I won't let myself go down that path anymore. That's why I don't even take narcotic pain medication. It's in my medical charts that I require non-narcotic pain meds."
What happened next wasn't at all what Spencer had expected. Remy let go of his hands and Spencer prepared for the man to get up and walk away; instead, Remy leaned forward and wrapped his arms around him. "Oh, bébé." He whispered the words into Spencer's hair. "Oh. I wish I could go back to then and protect you. I wish I could've been there for you. You're the strongest person I know. I know you don't think you are, but there aren't many that could've pulled outta that. I'm not angry, I'm not hurt, and I'm not leaving. I'm so proud of you."
Wait a second! He was what? Spencer went slightly stiff in Remy's arms. "You're what?"
"I'm proud, Spencer." Pulling back, Remy cupped his face, making sure that Spencer could see him. Honesty shone bright in his eyes. "I'm so proud that you were strong enough to beat something like that. Everyone makes mistakes. It's what you do after that shows your character. You came out the other side stronger and better for it all and for that, I'm so proud of you." And Remy bent in, pressing a kiss against his lips.
This wasn't what Spencer had expected. In all the times he'd imagined this conversation, this wasn't how he had thought it would go. He had never pictured Remy being so understanding, so sweet. But here he was, holding him so gently, kissing him sweetly, and Spencer couldn't stop the tears now. They slipped out in silent, shining rivers on his cheeks. Somehow he found that they were moving, Remy tucking himself into the corner and drawing Spencer with him, cradling him in his arms. Spencer lay against him, curled to his chest with Remy's chin on his head, and there was something warm unfurling inside of him. Is this love? The thought floated across his mind. Is this what love feels like? This warm sort of peace? The feeling of being complete inside of his arms? He didn't know. But whatever it was, Spencer knew he never wanted to let it go.