Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and all its associated characters are property to CBS and no profit is being made from this story.
Chapter Nineteen: Sanity's Spirit
'Facts by themselves can often feed the flame of madness, because sanity is a spirit.' –G.K. Chesterton
The voices sounded so solid, so real.
And their bodies...
Reid couldn't believe how tangible they seemed! He was sure that if he let JJ reach towards him, let her grab him like she intended to, he would feel warm and soft fingertips. He was sure that he would feel her hair brush up against him, her breath against him...
That was why he couldn't let her touch him. He knew that if he did, he would be tricked once more into believing that she- that all of them- were real. And they weren't. They weren't real and it didn't matter how flesh and bone they seemed- they were nothing more than the creations of a diseased mind.
But he was afraid that her touch would be so comforting, and that he would fall into it and lapse back into the created fantasy of his. After all, the last time they felt so real was during his longest episode of insanity. His eyes widened with realization and he paused his mantra.
What if...what if that meant that he was about to descend into another, long episode? No! He couldn't! He was so close to sanity! How could he let it slip through his fingers like that? He looked up, chancing a glance behind his back at the two "agents" who stood there. JJ sat on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest as she stared down at them, crying quietly, while Hotch stood by the door, averting his gaze to everything but the people in front of him.
Andrew had to be back any second now. He had to be ready for the electroshock therapy treatment and at any moment he would waltz into the room, take Spencer to the machine, and after a ZAP and some tingly sensations, he would be fine. He would be sane.
And he would never have to see or hear these illusions again.
He turned his gaze back and continued to rock himself, returning to his phrase once more. The second Andrew got back he would tell him it was getting worse. Tell him to help him right away.
He jumped when he heard several loud crashes, daring to look behind his back one more time. JJ was standing now, and both she and Hotch had their guns raised, prepared to deal with the crash that, like their presence, was probably imagined.
"Stay with Reid," Hotch said to JJ before leaving and the girl nodded obediently, moving closer to her charge as she slowly lowered her gun but still maintained a strong grip on it. She sat down, crossing her legs and looking over to Reid, her eyes widening.
He hadn't even realized he had switched into a different, less closed position until she spoke to him, her voice low and soothing.
"It's going to be alright, Spence," she said, smiling encouragingly. The wideness of her mouth and the way her lips pulled up so high seemed out of place on her sorrowful and tear streaked face. Her smile wavered and then fell as she continued to stare at him, mesmerized by the changes he had gained in a week.
His cheeks heated under her gaze and he had to turn his head away, looking down at his new seating arrangement. He now sat facing the door as opposed to the wall, but JJ blocked his full view of the room outside the one he now occupied. His left leg was curled under his body with his right extended in front of him. His two hands lay flat against the cool tile and he was leaning forward, the arms providing sturdiness for his upper body.
Once more he was drawn to his various injuries, wracking his brain as he tried to find an explanation for how he acquired them. A reasonable explanation, as his mind was still trying to convince them that Andrew had given them to him. That was impossible. Andrew would never hurt him- he was his doctor. He was helping him.
He hated not being able to trust his own mind. But hopefully Andrew would help him with that. And hopefully, he'd get here soon.
"What did he do to you?"
He looked up at the soft voice, and quickly realized that JJ wasn't speaking to him. Not directly. Weird. Even his own hallucinations were being introspective.
But as weird as it seemed and as much as he tried to tell himself that she was just a hallucination and nothing more, when he saw the fat, hot tear that slid down her throat, he couldn't help the way his chest constricted at the sight.
Figment of his imagination or not, she was beautiful. And the doleful look in her eyes along with the rapidly falling tears seemed to tarnish that. He wished he had enough control over his own mind to at least, if not make her go away, make her happy. Make her flash that pretty smile at him again and this time, have it stay. But as hard as he tried to make this occur, it wouldn't.
A tear slid down the slope of her cheek and down her chin, falling down to her covered chest. And the more he saw the tears, the more desperate he became. The more he wanted her to go away. Because he was afraid he would reach out to her, try to comfort him.
And if he did, and he felt how real she seemed, he might forget that it was all a clever trick.
So he refrained. He kept his hands flat on the floor as he watched tear after tear, focusing too hard on them as not even the seemingly distant sounds of gunshots broke through his concentration. But at the sound of the gun, she choked on a sob, squeezed her eyes together and ducked her head. And seeing that, the fact that she began to now shake with her tears, made the thin string of control he had, snap.
He raised one hand tentatively, gently touching her chin with the ends of his thin fingers and lifting her head upwards. Her eyes were opened, no longer squeezed tightly together as she looked at him, tears falling even more profusely down her cheeks.
His lip twitched. "Don't...don't cry," he whispered as he cupped her chin more firmly and wiped her tears away with the pad of his thumb, screaming at himself from inside his head. This was stupid! This was suicidal even! Making this connection, though simple, would only make him try to validate the solidity of her to the solidity of his fabricated life. He shouldn't have done it. He should've stopped himself. But when he started to pull back, she leaned forward, leaning into his hand as she closed her eyes- not in a strained way, but in a relaxing way. As though she were sleeping.
"Spence," she said softly, and somewhere, some part of him jumped at the name. Spence...
Andrew had only ever called him Spencer. In fact, she was the only one, even in his delusions, who called him that.
Spence.
He liked it.
He wiped away some more tears with his thumb, and noted that the tears were less frequent than they had been a second ago. Had he done that? Had he comforted her?
'As if comforting an illusion is that difficult,' he thought with a snort. But nonetheless he continued to wipe away any tears that fell, rubbing small circles on her chin with his thumb when there were no tears. She felt so real. Her skin felt so smooth. He needed to stop- needed to pull away and remind himself that she wasn't actually there. But he couldn't.
"Spence, I missed you so much," she said.
He opened his mouth. What should he say to that? 'Go to hell? You can't miss me, you're not real?' Why did part of him feel the urge to return the statement, as if it actually mattered?
"I..." he started, but in that moment the voice he had been longing to hear spoke from the room outside.
"There's nothing you can do for Spencer now. He's gone too far. You might as well let me keep him. He's mine now," Andrew's voice said, floating into the bathroom.
"Andrew," he whispered and JJ's eyes shot open.
"Spencer?" she said, her voice strained.
He looked back at her and licked his lips. "I...I need to...you're not real," he mumbled, his thumb no longer moving as he let his hand go limp. He tried to pull his hand away but she grabbed it, shaking her head pleadingly at him.
"No, no! Spencer! I am real! Please!" she begged, crying fiercely. She was rubbing his hand inside hers, playing with each finger as though she were trying to prove just how real she was. But it didn't work.
"No," he said, then cleared his throat and said again, more assertively, "No. You're not."
He tried to pull his hands back from her so he could go see Andrew, get the treatment he needed, the treatment he wanted, but she held firm onto him, not letting go. Swallowing, he reared his elbows back and then shoved his hands forward, knocking her as she teetered on the balls of her feet. She shouted before she regained her balance, but he grabbed her shoulders and pushed down once more. She fell back this time, and he stood, bounding from the room as fast as he could.
His eyes barely saw Hotch in front of him. He only saw a hand reach out and, instinctively, he ducked. When he saw Andrew, he could feel himself lighting up with joy. Finally! He would get the treatment and it would all be over! No more questions, no more second guesses, no more self doubt. He would be free.
Feet slipped on the floor and his arms wrapped around Andrew's waist, pulling him close as he buried his face in the coat. His heart was trembling with the need to tell him everything. But he could only manage one phrase.
"It's getting worse," he mumbled, and he felt a thick hand pat his head.
"I told you he was mine." Reid felt and heard the words, Andrew's stomach vibrating as he spoke and he stiffened. Who was he talking to? The only people in the room were his team, and Andrew couldn't see them.
Dread filled him.
What if he was hallucinating Andrew too, and the real doctor was still in another room, oblivious to his need?
He was about to pull back, about to study this man to see how real he was, but stopped when he heard him whisper quietly, sadly to him as he sighed, "I'm sorry, Spencer."
He looked up, his brow furrowed as he opened his mouth to question him. But his answer came when Andrew wrapped an arm swiftly around his waist and lifted him up, as if using him as a shield. He gasped at the sudden movement, trying to wriggle free of his grip.
"Andrew, what are-"
The cool, round tip of the revolver's barrel pressed against his temple silenced him.
He swallowed, stilling instantly as his heart slammed back and forth, hitting his spinal column and his chest with each pulse. Why was he doing this? He was supposed to help him! Even for a hallucination, it felt so real. The way the gun chilled him seemed to palpable.
"Let him go, Andrew," Hotch demanded as JJ came running out of the bathroom, gasping at the scene. It took only a second of momentary shock before she raised her gun.
Andrew sighed. "I'm afraid I can't. Not unless you let me walk out of here with him, unharmed. If you can't promise me that, I'm afraid I'll have to shoot him and then myself," he said and Reid swallowed. This was a hallucination, right? He couldn't actually get harmed in a hallucination. He willed his body to remain calm, to understand that it wasn't really in a life or death situation, but everything about him screamed to run. To fight. To do anything.
"Andrew, don't do this. You can't harm him. He's your patient, remember?" Hotch urged. "You took an oath to help him."
"I am helping him," he said.
Reid was conflicted. Should he do something? Try to stop him? Or would that only feed into the delusion? Would the best thing to do be to wait and remain still until the episode ended? Until the real Andrew came in and helped him?
His decision was made for him when he heard the click of a gun being prepared to fire. Without even thinking, he jerked his head back and to the side as he kicked his his legs, hooking his foot behind one of Andrew's knees and pulling forward. The older man's balance slipped and his knee gave in. He released his grasp on Spencer, dropping him to the floor with a thud and groan as fell to his knees.
Morgan took the opportunity, shooting Andrew in the thigh. He hissed in pain, forgoing his gun in order to grab the bleeding wound. Hotch was behind him in an instant, hoisting him up as he made to pull him from the ground.
Reid panicked.
What if that was the real Andrew?
What if he was taking him away from him?
"No!" Reid shouted, jumping up and wrapping his arms around Andrew's leg. He needed him. He needed his treatments, he needed to get better. What would happen to him if Andrew never came back? Would he die? Would they lock him up in another hospital with uncaring doctors? Would he be forgotten about? What if none of the doctors knew how to fix him? What if they just pushed him to the side, keeping him alive but not really caring about how aware he was? No, they couldn't take Andrew away from him. Not when he was so close.
"Reid," Hotch said and he just tightened his grip.
"NO!" he said, more firmly.
"Spence."
He jumped, turning to look at JJ without undoing his grip, her voice soothing again and making him want to reach out to her. But he couldn't. He needed to hold on to Andrew. So he just listened.
"Spence, Andrew's hurt. He needs to see someone who can help him," she said as she knelt down and pushed some curls behind his ear softly. He flinched, unnerved by her hands, and she was forced to pull away with a grim smile as she realized he didn't want to be touched. "But Spence, he's hurt. He needs a doctor."
"He is a doctor," Reid argued, hating how childish his argument sounded. But really, what could they do? They weren't real.
What happened to someone if their captor was a ghost, he wondered. Would they disappear forever, never to be found? Or would they become a ghost themselves? Deciding he couldn't risk it, he held on tighter. JJ forced a smile on her face as she tried again.
"But he needs a doctor to help him. He can't help himself, and you know that. I know you do, Spence. You're too smart not to," she said and he swallowed. She reached out and placed a hand on top of his. Despite the cringe she received, she gingerly began to pry his fingers off from around Andrew's calf. Reluctantly, Reid let her, knowing he needed Andrew to get better in order for himself to get better.
But when he saw four new, unfamiliar people, three men and one woman, come in with two stretchers between them, he understood that they intended for Andrew to be taken somewhere to get better.
"Where is he going?" he asked, watching as two of the men set the device down and then hoisted Andrew onto it, cuffing his wrists down with attached restraints. He hated how panicked he sounded, how afraid he sounded. But he needed him to live! Didn't they understand that?
"He needs to go to a hospital," JJ said as the woman and the man left the room, a groaning Varney attached to a stretcher with his hands restrained as well.
"Can...can I go with him?" he asked, licking his lips.
'Please say yes, please say yes...'
"Not right now. We don't have enough room for you," she said, averting her eyes to Hotch. He shrugged his shoulders, opening the door for the paramedics to take Andrew out.
Reid shook his head. "Please? I won't bother anyone," he tried, his eyes following his doctor out the door. He needed to be with him. They couldn't take him away. What if he lost him? What if he never saw him again?
"Spence, it doesn't work that way. You'll go in a different car," she said, biting her lip. But he had stopped paying attention once he realized the answer was a resound no. He watched Hotch leave the room after Andrew, speaking to another paramedic in the hall about Rossi and his condition.
But dammit! Reid didn't care about Rossi and how he was! He cared about Andrew and his welfare!
Rossi wasn't even real!
Morgan entered the room after having stepped out to make a phone call and looked to JJ, purposefully avoiding Reid. Not that he cared- how interesting he was to a spectre was of none of his concern.
"What are they going to do?" JJ asked and Morgan's jaw clenched.
"They're giving the three ambulances to Rossi, Varney and Wright, since they're the most high risk. They're sending three more for me, Emily and Reid. They should get here in fifteen minutes," he said finally turning to look to Reid. His expression softened, melting away when he saw his friend. But Reid merely blinked and turned away, trying to inform him without speaking that he was not in the mood to deal with him and his unkind words.
"Reid, what-"
"Morgan," JJ warned quietly, shaking her head. "He...he isn't...he..." She sighed and looked down at her hands, trying to find the proper words. "Wright got him," was all she said, avoiding his eyes.
He shook his head slowly, looking between her and Reid. "No," he said, huffing out a strained chuckle that died on her lips when she remained serious. She was telling the truth? "No. No. He isn't...he wouldn't...he's too strong," he said accusingly to her. When she didn't respond, he turned to Reid, taking long strides to meet him, brown eyes desperately searching hazel.
He had to be in here somewhere...
"Reid? Come on, man. It's me...Morgan? Derek Morgan?" he said, when Reid regarded him with an offhanded look. He shook his head again. "Kid, it's...it's me. Come on, you gotta know me."
He placed his hand down on Reid's, which was resting on his knee, and Reid pulled his hand back as if it had been burned.
"Go away," he murmured, turning away once more.
"Reid, you-" Morgan began, the hurt evident in his voice.
"Let it go, Morgan," JJ said softly.
He stood, turning to look at her. "Let it go?" he repeated, flopping his arms to the sides. "Let it go? JJ, don't you get it? We were too late. We failed him. I can't...I let him..." His voice was grating on Reid's nerve, and he had resorted to plugging his ears, trying to drown out the noise. Morgan's mouth continued to move, but it seemed like he wasn't saying anything, his fingers working successfully on bringing him peace. Now he could focus on more important things.
They had said he could go with them to see Andrew, but not in the ambulance. Shouldn't they be back to get him now? Ambulances shouldn't wait so long.
Unless...
Unless they weren't going to take him at all and they had lied.
How dare they? He jumped to his feet, wincing at the pain that followed this action, but running out of the room regardless, JJ and Morgan calling after him. But he was oblivious to their words; he needed to get to Andrew. They took him away. He needed to get to them before they left for good.
He lumbered up the stairs, more so carrying himself with the railing than actually walking. He darted past startled police officers and out to the front yard, sighing in relief when he saw that Andrew was still there, his stretcher being raised into the ambulance.
No longer running, he walked at a quick pace to the ambulance, halfway across the yard when Morgan yelled, "Hotch! Get him!"
"No!" Reid roared as Hotch wrapped his arms around his waist, lifting him up easily despite his attempts to be put down. He clawed at his arms with the seven nails he had as he kicked madly, flailing his legs out and hoping they'd connect with Hotch's shin hard enough that he'd let him go. But he didn't. He just held on tightly, digging his heels into the dirt to steady himself against Reid's struggles.
"Let me go!" he shouted, his struggles becoming desperate as the ambulance door closed and the vehicle took off, Andrew safely inside it.
He was gone.
His doctor was being taken away.
The only chance for sanity he had was being taken away.
And it was all their fault- the people who resembled his hallucinated team. They took Andrew away from him. They held him in place so he couldn't get to Andrew. They stopped him from getting better.
He yelled out in anger, throwing his head back with all other violent notions as he struggled even harder, now fueled by rage and fear. But just as before, Hotch didn't even seem bothered by his movements and acted as though he were merely a petulant toddler who wanted freedom from an overbearing parent's hold. He became even angrier when Hotch turned him around, holding him at arm's length as he tried to speak to him.
"Reid, you have-"
"I hate you!" Reid roared, stopping the man in the middle of his speech, his mouth slung open. "I hate you! He was going to help me! He was going to help me and you ruined it! You hurt him and you took him away!"
"Reid," Hotch said, but was interrupted once more.
"YOU'RE NOT REAL!" he screamed, letting his body fall to the ground, curling into himself again. "You're not real, you're not real, you're not real..."
Hotch watched him, letting himself be pushed aside as two paramedics rushed over, grabbing him from his underarms and picking him up, sitting him down more properly. A third paramedic joined the group, taking a frighteningly long needle and jamming it into Reid's shoulder.
His eyes widened, only for a moment, before the heavy lids fluttered down and his rant became broken apart and less coherent.
"You're...not...you're not...re...re...real," he was slurring, his lips barely moving but making exaggerated movements before his body went limp and he fell into the waiting arms behind him. One of the men shifted Reid's weight, carrying him in his arms as the other two stood.
"Let's lie him down on the porch for now," one, a stout paramedic, said and the one holding Reid nodded, carrying him away to the small, wooden slab by the front door. As they turned, the third one looked over to Hotch, and tried to smile at him.
"We had to. We were afraid the stress would make him worse," he explained.
"Is that possible?" Hotch asked.
"Ugh...the stress thing?" the paramedic asked.
He shook his head. "No, for it to get worse."
The man licked his lips. "Agent, I'm not really a psychiatrist or anything, but I'm sure he could work through it. I mean, I don't know the details but I think the trauma can be dealt with. He'll be in good hands," he said.
"Whose hands?"
The medic hesitated. "I'm not going to lie, Agent. It's a bad situation. He'll need hospitalization-"
"I know," Hotch interrupted. "What I want to know is the...the level of care?"
"You mean the permanence of his stay?" he asked, raising a brow. Hotch nodded eagerly. "I don't know for sure. He'll need to have an Psych Eval. for that to be deciphered. It's a mandatory stay of three days but my personal opinion is that he'll probably be transferred to a Residential service." He looked back to the porch were Reid now lay, a blanket placed beneath him as the other medics took vitals, pressing their fingers into his neck and examining the wounds that weren't covered in plaster or gauze. He turned to Hotch once more and asked, "Any other questions I can answer for you, sir?"
Hotch looked over the medic's shoulder to where Morgan and JJ stood. "How's Emily?" he asked.
"Agent Prentiss? Minor Concussion, more shock than anything. She's in the kitchen now with another medic, getting ice while the other ambulances arrive."
Hotch nodded as he began walking to his two agents. "Thanks. I'm going to send Agent Morgan over to you. Make sure his arm gets looked at. He's too stubborn to ask for help," he said.
"Sure thing, Agent," he said to Hotch's retreating back.
"Morgan," Hotch said as he joined the group. "Go over to that paramedic over there. Get your arm looked at."
Morgan shook his head. "I can wait. It's not too bad. I need-"
"Morgan, that's an order. You lost a lot of blood from fighting Varney. I want you to get taken care of. The next set of ambulances won't be here for another ten minutes," he said and Morgan sighed, knowing it was a losing battle.
"Fine. We'll talk later," he said, clapping a hand on JJ's shoulder as he headed over to the medic who was patiently awaiting him. The two walked into the house, while taking a great pause on the porch as Morgan looked at Reid's unconscious form. When the door opened and closed, Morgan being taken care of inside, Hotch turned to JJ.
"How is everyone?" she asked.
"Fine as they can be. Emily just has a concussion and Rossi's wound wasn't fatal. The vest did a decent job of slowing the bullet down so it wasn't able to do too much damage," he said.
"And...And Spencer?"
Hotch looked to the squad car behind her, as two officers worked on a report. "We'll see," he finally said. He then added, "We should get in touch with Garcia. Let her know how everything worked out. She'd be happy to hear that we found him."
"I can call her now," JJ said as she reached for her cellphone, but Hotch stopped her.
"There's something I want to talk to you about," he said.
She looked at him, biting her lip. "Um, yeah sure. What...what is it?"
"What happened in the bathroom? After I left? How did he act? What were you able to figure out?" He asked. She licked her lips and looked down, folding her arms over her chest as she thought back to the moment.
"I...It was...weird. I started to cry and he comforted me. For a second there, I thought that he was normal. Well...you know...Reid Normal. But when he heard Andrew speak he told me I wasn't real and tried to leave. I tried to get him to stay, but he pushed me," she explained, her eyes flitting over to the porch before returning to the ground. "I think...I think Andrew convinced him he was hallucinating and delusional. He must've made him think that we- the team- were all just a delusion."
Hotch nodded. "That's why he reacted the way he did when we took Wright away. And when Wright entered the room. He thought Wright was the only hope he had at getting better. Becoming...sane," he reasoned. Clearing his throat, he added, "I'm going to go speak to Emily. Call Garcia. Tell her to get on the jet. I know she'll want to come here when she hears everything."
He turned and left, leaving JJ to call Garcia as he headed for Emily. What had happened in that room that resulted in two agents being knocked unconscious and shot, while the UnSubs got away?
xXx
To say Garcia was nervous was an understatement. It had been an hour since she sent the team the address and still no word. And they had just left her to sit in her little, protected room without even a job to do or something to search for. Several times she had pulled out her current knitting project with the hopes of distracting herself, only to fail all times.
How could she just sit here, twiddling her thumbs, while the team could be finding Reid or being led into another trick? It was setting her on edge! But when her phone went off, she was too afraid to answer it. What if it was bad news? What if they found Reid, but something was horribly wrong? What if they didn't find him? What if someone got hurt? Or worse?
It was on the third ring that she took a deep breath and answered it, doing her best to keep her voice from sounding the way she felt.
"What did you guys find?" she asked, worrying her lip.
"We found him. Spencer," JJ said.
She exhaled deeply in relief, rubbing at her eyes as she felt the sting of tears. They found him. They found Reid, and were getting him away from that hell. "How...how is he?" she asked, choking slightly over her cries as she smiled wide, her purple lips pulled up. But when JJ didn't respond, her smile wavered. Why wasn't she saying anything? What was wrong with him? What didn't she want to say?
"Hotch has arranged for a jet to pick you up. We're going to the hospital," she said softly.
"JJ, you're scaring me. What happened?" Garcia asked, standing up from her chair as she looked around her room. She had a prepared suitcase somewhere in this mess...
"Rossi and Morgan were shot, and Emily has a concussion," she said.
What about Reid?
"And...Reid?" Garcia asked, prompting her to continue.
JJ paused before saying, "It's bad. He...He's hurt. But...just...I'm sorry, Garcia. I don't feel comfortable saying all this on the phone. It just seems so impersonal."
Garcia nodded, her blonde curls flopping against her head. "Yes. Yes I...I understand. I'll um...be ready soon."
"Okay. See you then," JJ said and then the phone clicked as she hung up.
Garcia swallowed nervously as she continued to look for her suitcase, finally finding it underneath a desk of modems. She pulled it out, staring at the hot pink case as her mind worked a million thoughts a second. What had happened to him? What didn't she feel right saying on the phone? Were Morgan and Rossi shot badly? What about the UnSubs? What about Reid?
She grabbed her case and stood up, turning off everything she had to and locking her door. She walked down the corridors to the jet, knowing that this would be the longest, most nerve-wracking plane ride of her life.
xXx
Author's Note: Long chapter for you guys. One of the longest ones, actually. Only a couple more chapters to go. Thank you all for such kind reviews and whatnot! And all the favorites and alerts. Here are some specific replies now:
Pigfarts on MARS- I don't know if you've seen my avatar, but if you have, then you should know that I am in love with this pen name of yours. It's totally awesome.
AhmoseInarus- Shush! We can pretend it's a word! Haha and why thank you! That truly means a lot.
Reidemption- I love Morgan. I especially love his relationship with Reid in the series. I'm excited to write his character for the upcoming chapters and hope I don't disappoint you with how he's portrayed from now until they epilogue.
Orangezest100- I feel so honored! Hopefully, I don't disappoint.
Chapter Twenty: As It Should Be (Preview)
Hotch held his hand, subconsciously massaging the knuckles as he stared at his face, calm and serene in a forced sleep. He looked so damaged, so defeated. Nothing like the Reid he knew, the Reid he came to love as a close friend. He always liked to consider Reid like a younger brother of sorts- guiding him and teasing him all at the same time.
And now his brother was gone.
He was tortured, beaten, abused and now he was destroyed. He would be forced into some cold and unfeeling institution and when- if- he ever regained his sanity, would then have to deal with the trauma. But it could never be truly lived with. He would spend the rest of his life with nightmares, running away from boogeyman that, no matter how far away they physically were, would always lurk in his closet.
Bowing his head, hiding the thin streaks of tears that slid down his cheeks, he rubbed his thumb over his hands as he said in a voice so soft that the medic beside him was unaware he even spoke, "I am so sorry, Spencer."