Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and all its associated characters are property to CBS and no profit is being made from this story.
Chapter Twenty-Six: Slaying Dragons
'Fairy tales don't tell children that dragons exist- children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children that dragons can be killed.' -G.K. Chesterton
"I call shot gun!" Garcia shouted, throwing her purse the small distance from where she stood over to the passenger's side of the large SUV, smirking when it landed on the cushioned seat. "Goal!" she cheered, throwing her fists above her head in a victorious gesture as Rossi rolled his eyes and JJ laughed.
"I'll drive," Emily said, taking one of the key sets from Hotch as she joined Garcia and JJ, rolling her black suitcase with her.
"Okay, by the time we get there it will be about five, so here's what we'll do," Rossi said, clapping his hands together as he leaned against the second SUV. "We'll check into the hotel, then we'll meet up with Morgan, get dinner, and bring it back to the hospital. Sound good?"
Garcia placed her hand over her brow and then shot it out in a straight line as she said, "Aye aye, Captain! Now let's go!" She pushed her purse off the seat and settled into the car, bouncing excitedly as JJ smirked and helped Emily put the final bag in the trunk. They were preparing for the somewhat long drive to Pennsylvania for their weekend with Reid, hoping that there wouldn't be any incoming cases until Monday, giving them the full two days to visit. With Agent Baptiste and Agent Johnson's promises to keep the paperwork maintained, they were ready to shirk off all work related responsibilities and focus only on their friend.
"Come on, guys!" Garcia said impatiently as JJ and Emily entered the car.
"Hold your horses," Emily said with a chuckle as she deliberately held the keys up and placed it in the ignition as slow as possible, smirking at Garcia's exasperated expression. When it looked like the techie couldn't stand the wait any longer, Emily laughingly turned the key, revving the engine as she began to slowly pull out.
Hotch and Rossi waited for the first SUV containing the three ladies to enter the road before Hotch turned the key, the engine roaring into life, and followed the same path, sighing as he began the four hour or so long ride. He really did hate driving. So tedious. So time consuming.
"Do you think he'll be alright?" Rossi asked, reminding Hotch that he wasn't alone. He had the tendency to do that every now and then- zone out during long car rides if there wasn't anything to occupy his attention. He'd forget his own son was in the car with him if the young boy wasn't constantly asking questions. But Jack wasn't in the car- he was with his aunt for the weekend.
Sighing, Hotch said, "I don't know. Morgan was very vague about the progress he's made..."
"He's sane now. And he has some of his memories back. The trauma had to have set in by now. And knowing Reid, he probably feels embarrassed," Rossi mused and Hotch turned to him for a second before looking back to the road.
"Embarrassed?"
Rossi shrugged. "Well, think about it. If you're biggest fear in the entire world was insanity and you momentarily became insane and accused your closest friends of not being real, how would you feel? He's probably embarrassed that he let something like that happen."
"He didn't let it happen," Hotch thought, a voice in his mind piping in, 'you did.'
"I know he didn't. But that's how he'll feel. Most victims often focus on the least devastating emotion after-"
Hotch interrupted him, an eyebrow lifted as he said, "You're profiling him." It wasn't a question, but a statement. Rossi was silent for a moment before raising one shoulder and nodding.
"Yes, I am." After a tense moment, he added, "Embarrassment is easier to process than anger, guilt, regret, hate...all of it. He'll feel embarrassed first, than when that emotion gets old, he'll register all the others."
Hotch nodded in agreement, knowing he was right. Denial would make it take longer for all the other emotions to process. So what then would happen when they did? How would he react when everything else fully came to? Sure, he was probably feeling other emotions. And sure, he was probably aware of all the other emotions. But he wasn't really feeling them- not yet anyway. What would happen when he did? How would he handle it? Would he regress, shut down and become despondent? Or would he act out, scream and become violent? There was no telling with Reid, no precedents to guide you, no suitable profiles to dictate what would happen to him. That was one thing Hotch had learned early on- Reid was like no other.
He was strong and stubborn.
But sometimes he tried to be stronger than anyone could ever be.
Would he stretch himself too thin? Would he try to do it without help? He was stubborn like that. It was almost as if he exaggerated the capabilities of others. He saw an above-averagely strong human being and built them up to be Superman. Of course, it wasn't unusual. Like most physically disadvantaged people, Reid felt inferior when it came to anything outside the realm of academics. He felt weak. But he wasn't. Reid was anything but weak.
"Do you think he'll let people help him?" Hotch asked, licking his lips.
Rossi sighed. "I honestly don't know. Reid's never been placed in a situation like this."
Hotch had always taken advantage of Reid's intelligence, always forgot that there was a person around the brain. It wasn't intentional- he did care for Reid, just like he did all his other team members. But when the boy genius spoke, it was sometimes too difficult to remember that he was human, and not just an encyclopedia. In his own way, he mistreated Reid. Forgot that not everything could be learned through books. Forgot that Reid didn't know how to deal with trauma because that sort of thing isn't found in physics texts. It was his job to tell him. His job to prepare him for the stress this career could create. But when he started his first case, he just seemed so collected, so analytical. He didn't see a mutilated, dead person. He saw a cadaver- a souvenir of a criminal. The body was synonymous with the physical evidence- the fingerprints, the hair follicles. Not a no-longer-living person. He forgot. He forgot that just because Reid could dissociate himself from the crimes they saw, that he was still a feeling human.
"I should have prepared him better," Hotch breathed.
Rossi looked at him from the corner of his eye as he shook his head slowly. "No one could be prepared for this. You know that, Hotch."
"Do you think he'll come back?" Hotch asked and it took his friend a second to figure out what he meant. Come back...to the BAU. Come back to the job that had broken him in the first place. Come back to the people that had let him down.
xXx
"You cheated," Morgan accused, folding his arms over his chest as Reid smirked, shrugging his shoulders as he placed his cards down and pulling the chips towards him.
"I didn't cheat," he said, still smirking as Morgan continued to scowl. Looking over the chips, he then said, "You owe me fifty bucks. Pay up."
Morgan sighed. "What would you do with it here? Buy some Zoloft?" he joked, earning an eye roll from his companion. "How about I get you some books or something instead? Something to keep you occupied while you're here." The instant Reid's smile fell and his fingers loosened around the chips he knew he had said something wrong.
"How long will I be here for?" Reid asked quietly, his eyes settling on the table as he pulled his hands into his lap.
The dark-skinned agent regarded him for a moment before saying, "I don't know. Your new doctor hasn't said anything to me. Still processing everything."
Reid had been given a new doctor with his ward transfer- one more specialized in trauma. Morgan hadn't even met this new doctor, hadn't even heard a name for him. "How do you like him?" he asked.
Scoffing, Reid raised a brow. "I don't. He's the type of doctor who tries to cure people with as much chemicals as possible," he said, not looking up from the table.
"You've talked to him for what? Five minutes?" Morgan challenged.
"Yes, and apparently he decided those five minutes were enough for him to prescribe me Klonopin for anxiety, Wellbutrin for depression and Seroquel for sleep aids," Reid said, counting the drugs off with his fingers. "He took four minutes to talk to me and one to set up a pattern of drugs to pump into me."
Morgan raised a brow. "Maybe he's good at his job."
"Or too lazy to do real work," Reid muttered and Morgan pretended not to hear him. He knew that the issue wasn't really with the doctor, just the idea of taking so many drugs. He hated medicines of all types. His thoughts were disrupted by Reid's question. "When's everyone getting here?"
Startled by the sudden change in conversation, it took him several seconds to fully register the question and answer. "Hotch said around five or something, but they need to check in first. They'll call me and let me know I need to meet them. What do you want for dinner?" He paused before adding with a sly grin, "Chinese?"
Reid felt his nose crinkle as he shook his head. That stupid chopstick incident would follow him to Hell and back wouldn't it? Trying not to let the jab get to him, he said, "I think Greek, actually. Felafels sound good." Now it was Morgan's turn to crinkle his nose. It was half spite that made Reid suggest the food type, knowing his friend disliked it. Plus, he could really go for some felafels.
"If you insist," Morgan said before mumbling, "I'll just get some pizza."
The phone went off then, and the two men stilled at the little jingle. Smiling, Morgan pulled the phone from his pocket and answered it, enjoying the nervous way Reid looked up and licked his lips, seeming like it took all his self-control to not attack Morgan for the phone. "Hey," he answered, smiling openly now as Reid craned his head forward and sat on the edge of his bed, holding onto the small table between them. After a moment, he asked, "Which hotel are you at? Okay, I'll meet you there then. Yeah, he wants Greek. I was going to get pizza for myself." He rolled his eyes here, and Reid smiled, knowing that Rossi probably said something along the lines of 'Not even going to try it? You're like a child.'
God, he missed his team so much...
He was brought back to the present moment by Morgan standing up, the cellphone still against his ear as he said, "Yep, I'm getting ready to leave now. Want to talk to Reid?" The look on the young man's face was priceless- a cross between violent anxiety and excited anticipation as though he would readily jump at Morgan for the device. He reached out and took the phone, trembling as he brought it to his ear.
"Hello?" he said, clearing his throat softly as his hands shook with nerves.
"Hey, Reid," Rossi answered, sounding almost relieved. The familiar voice felt foreign, yet comforting. It had been so long since he heard their voices. Even longer since he heard them and believed that they weren't illusions. Reid wanted to say more, wanted to tell Rossi how excited he was to see them, how happy he was that they were coming to visit him. But his throat was constricting around itself, his airways cut off as he swallowed hard. Rossi spoke before he could work through the clump in his throat. "How are you?"
"Fine," he said, his voice squeaking, suddenly at a loss for words. Yes, it was possible. Even Spencer Reid, Rambler Extraordinaire, could be at a loss for suitable phrases to say. So, with nothing else to add, he returned the question. "You?"
He could practically hear Rossi smirk. "You sound awfully casual." Before Reid could even think of a retort, he heard Hotch in the background, his heart leaping at his boss's voice.
"We're here," the deep baritone said.
"Gotta go, Reid. We'll see you in a bit," Rossi said.
Saying their good byes, the two men hung up and Reid looked up at Morgan, smiling perhaps the most genuine smile he had in months.
"I'll be right back," Morgan said, grabbing the phone and shoving it and his hands inside his pockets. He smiled to Reid before leaving the room and heading out to meet with the team, leaving the young man alone.
xXx
If anyone had asked Reid what he was doing, he would've lied. Or at least tried to. He was a very poor liar- obvious ticks, eye contact avoidance and whatnot. But he would've tried to lie despite his inability to do so because he, quite simply, felt pathetic with the truth of his actions.
Since Morgan's departure, Reid sat on his bed, the small, digital clock in his lap as he watched each minute pass. Each minute that he was alone. Each minute that his family wasn't here. But they would be. And he couldn't wait to see them- see how much they changed. Vaguely, he wondered if they would like his new haircut.
"What are you doing?" an amused voice from the doorway spoke.
Oh no. Time to lie.
"I ugh...I..." he started, feeling his palms shake and grow tacky with sweat as he licked his lips. He was so terrible at lying. Looking up, he visibly relaxed when he saw the smiling face of Tori, her body leaning against the black door frame.
"I hear your team's coming to visit you soon," she said.
Reid nodded eagerly, happy to see his favorite nurse. Being that she worked on the Psychoses unit of the hospital, she was no longer constantly working the halls of his ward and he was missing her presence in the week and a half since he had been moved.
"When are they getting here?" she asked and he shrugged his shoulders lamely.
"I don't know. Morgan went out to meet them," he said, hoping she would keep him company until his friend's did show. It got awfully lonely by himself, surrounded by nothing but the cold, pale blue walls and white linen. So impersonal.
She smirked, pulling her hand out from behind her back to show a large shopping bag. "Care to make it a special occasion?" she asked, moving the bag sideways as he groaned. She was too kind to him- it really made him feel so guilty. But, secretly and though he would never openly admit it, he liked being coddled. It was a nice, comforting feeling.
Tori moved over to his bed, sitting down in the seat Morgan had previously occupied as she motioned for Reid to make room. He did so, putting the clock to his side as she held the bag upside down and shook it out, letting the clothes fall onto his mattress. Clothes- actual clothes! He had worn nothing but sweatpants and pajama bottoms for his entire stay, his few jeans having long since been lost when he decided how cumbersome real clothes were when someone had nowhere to go.
"Now, I had to guess with the jeans, so you'll have to try them on first but I think one or two might fit," she said as he began rummaging through the clothes, pulling out a pair of dark blue jeans and a white, pinstriped button down. Tori smiled her approval. "Fine choice, of course." She then looked back at the pile of clothes and made a small, "oh!" sound as she grabbed something and held it up for him to see. "New socks!" she cheered, showing off the two pairs, one black with purple stripes and the other black with orange leaves littered like polka dots over it.
Reid smirked as he reached out and grabbed them, admiring the new socks. He had so many as it was, but he always loved receiving them. A part of him wondered if she spoiled any of the other patients like this. He hoped not. Was that jealousy, he felt?
"Go try them on now! You might need to go through all of the jeans to find a pair that fit," she said and he stood, making his way to the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and quickly began wiggling out of his sweats, admiring the new clothes he held in his hands. He would have to pay her back somehow. Spoil her just as much as she spoils him.
He kicked the sweats off of his feet and began to put one leg in, thinking that Tori did a wonderful job with the size. They seemed to fit alright, even as he pulled them over his hips. They were a little baggy in the waist and hung too low for his liking, but it was nothing a belt couldn't fix.
Wait.
"No belts," he breathed out, remembering the policy. No belts, no bags, no strings on pants or hoodies...it had taken a world of convincing just to keep his nightlight! "It has glass," was the argument the new doctor had used. Thankfully, it took only one night of Reid screaming his throat raw for him to get the hint and let him have the nightlight regardless of the rules. Come to think of it, perhaps the Seroquel was a good idea. Maybe his sleeping schedule would become less erratic.
Feeling much like a child with all the rules and regulations restricting him, he slipped his shirt off, pausing to stare at his reflection. God, he was so skinny. He always had been. His upper arms were about the size of the average person's forearms and his shoulders were slender, making his head seem too big for his body. Or maybe that was just his perception. People always viewed their bodies weird.
He hated his body. He was so wiry, so scrawny. How could anyone find him attractive? And goodness knows the scars didn't help! But then again, he had heard that many women liked scars. Before he could stop it, he found himself thinking an absurd thought indeed!: 'I wonder if JJ likes scars.' But the second the idea was fully finished, he shook it from his mind. JJ would never go for him. Besides, he shouldn't be entertaining such thoughts. In this current situation, he couldn't really care about relationships anyway.
He didn't even know what brought the notion on.
Sighing, he grabbed the button down shirt and put his arms through the sleeve, buttoning it slowly up. The shirt, like the jeans, was a little too big, but not ridiculously so. He really needed to gain some weight. But he couldn't very well force food down his throat! His appetite had dwindled down to barely nothing in the past two weeks, the memories he was being assaulted with were too prominent for food to matter.
Comparatively, he had actually recalled very few things so far. Aside from the memories of Andrew torturing him, the one shower incident, and the memory that presented a second person, he knew nothing of that week.
The partner...
Morgan had acted very weird when he asked about the possibility, going to great lengths to keep the truth from Reid. But with the memories came the young genius's sharp intellect and observational skill, and he knew beyond a doubt that there was a partner, and that whatever happened involving this conspirator, Morgan did not want to say.
Reid sighed in frustration. If only he could remember! He couldn't even remember the briefing for the case, his mind was so fuzzy. The last clear memory he had was waking up to Hotch's phone call and thinking entirely too much about coffee.
He really needed to lay off the caffeine. He was pretty positive not having constant access to coffee was partly responsible for his lack of appetite and inability to sleep, as ironic as it seemed. He was going through withdrawal from the substance, and his right mind only worsened the symptoms. Maybe, when he was discharged, he would switch to tea. Or at least decaf.
He came back into the room, standing with arms spread slightly so Tori could see the garment.
"Well?" he asked, and she hummed in response.
"It's too big. But those were the smallest I think," she said, letting her dark eyes trail over to the pile of clothes. Shrugging, she waggled a finger in front of her face as she said in a no-nonsense tone, "You need to eat more! You're nothing but skin and bones!" Standing, she moved closer to him and examined the outfit, chuckling when she saw the blue waistband of his underpants.
"You need a belt," she said, pointing downwards.
He quirked a brow and followed the direction her finger pointed in, turning a fierce shade of crimson when he saw his exposed boxer briefs. How had the pants slipped so low on him? Quickly, he reached down and pulled his pants up further, before they could reveal anymore of him. But he couldn't look up at her, knowing she would smirk at his red face and ears.
The tingling sound of her laughter filled the air, and he breathed slightly, realizing that she wasn't laughing at his expense. Not really.
"I thought they wouldn't fit, and so I brought some ties. You can't have belts, but you can have alternatives," she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out some twisty-ties. He watched as she bent over and went to loop one through the belt loop, the sudden tug of his pants startling him with another memory.
The blindfold slid over his eyes, obscuring his view of the partially darkened room surrounding him. His wrists were tied down, though in a different way than what he was used to, keeping his back to the ceiling instead of his stomach. His knees dug into the mattress as he shifted around, feeling a new weight pull him downward slightly as someone sat behind me.
Inexplicable currents of dread ran through him, an understanding of what was about to occur sending signals of fear through the synapses in his mind. He began pulling on the restraints, falling backwards as he was unable to fight using his feet, knowing he would fall. Blood muffled the noises surrounding him, a slight ringing encasing his eardrums. Hands grabbed his hips, the fingers pinching the fabrics of a hospital gown as it began to slowly inch up his waist.
"NO!" he roared, pulling his pelvis down to the mattress to avoid the hands.
But the hands returned as whoever it was straddled his hips and shoved the gown upward, exposing him entirely. He struggled, pulling the restraints and feeling blood trickle down his wrists. He worked frantically to get away, squirming to get out from the weight of the person. And then it happened.
The sound of the zipper invaded his ears.
His body lurched forward, only to be pulled back.
Pain rippled through him, tears misting his eyes and dampening the blindfold. His mind could focus only on the burning, tearing pain, the sound of the restraints moving with him grating his senses...
Reid was screaming, his throat on fire with the strain of his shouts.
The memory, horrifically detailed and all-too real, had forced him down to the floor, his knees drawn inward as he shielded his face from view, his fingers clinging to the small locks of hair. How did it hurt so much? How could he feel the pain, even though it happened so long ago, like it was new? His entire body was wracked in a dull ache, trembling with the memory.
Was that why Morgan had been so reluctant to tell him?
"No. No. No," he muttered over and over again, squeezing his eyes shut. No, that wasn't what happened. It couldn't have happened. Reid had been tortured, yes. But that was it. Nothing like...like that! Had happened to him. It was a false memory- they happen all the time.
'False memories only occur under the power of suggestion and usually take place from early childhood,' his mind fired back at him, but he shook his head against the claims. He was wrong. He had to be. What he had remembered happening to him never happened. It was a fake memory, an uncontrolled response by his limbic system and hiccocampus brought on from the desire to recall more. That was all. That didn't happen to him. It couldn't.
"Spencer!" Tori was yelling, kneeling in front of him as she attempted to calm him down. If he didn't collect himself soon, he would attract the attention of the orderlies and nurse staff, and they would give him the needle. Sending a worried glance to the hallway, she bit her lip and tried again to get his attention.
"Spencer, please! Listen to me! Focus on my voice!"
"Tell me it isn't real," he begged, his face still out of view from behind his arms and pulled in knees. Her brows knitted in confusion. Tell him that what wasn't real? What had he remembered?
"Spencer-" she started, but he cut her off, his hands falling from his hair as he threw his head back, looking up to the ceiling as it banged harshly against the wall.
"Say it isn't real! Please!"
She shook her head, pulling a hand to her breast and fisting it, as though tightening it around her fast-beating heart at the scene before her. "Spencer, what did you see? You need to calm down for me to answer you," she said, loud but soothing as she sent another glance to the hall. He needed this visit, he couldn't lose it because of the overreaction to a flashback. Biting her lip, she looked back at him, visibly relaxing as she saw recognition of her words flicker over his barely-seen face. He had heard her words and was somehow calming himself, his breathing becoming even once more as he slowly tilted his head back to face her. His lip was quivering and his eyes were glassy with tears, making Tori suddenly aware of what he most likely remembered. She had seen his intake forms...
"The memories...they're fake?" he asked, an eyebrow raising with the question.
She took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm going to reach out and grab your hand now, Spencer," she warned, enunciating clearly while doing as she said she would, entwining her fingers through his own shaking and white appendages, feeling him tense at the contact. Clearing her throat, she asked, "What did you remember? What do you think isn't real?" She already knew the answer- already knew what she would have to say to him. She couldn't lie, even if it would make it better for him at the moment. He needed to know the truth, and she would give it to him.
Licking his lips, he averted his eyes as he said, "Someone...doing stuff to me." He didn't want to say it, afraid that his words might work as a spell and make it true. Didn't want to speak the damning words, the words that would reignite the feelings of humiliation and stupidity that he had only recently come to terms with. He couldn't say it- not like it mattered though, because it most definitely didn't happen. That's right.
It.
Did.
Not.
Happen.
Tori sighed though, shuffling closer as she laid his hand down in her lap, squeezing it tightly as she reached another hand out, letting him watch her as she laid her palm against his cheek. He flinched again, but didn't shirk away from her touch. She could see the fear though, and feel it too, the muscles of his face and hand tightly constricted.
"Spencer, I need you to understand that it isn't your fault," she said, immediately regretting it when his eyes widened and he pulled back, leaping to his feet and stumbling to the side. The glint in his eyes was wild, like a trapped animal as he shook his head, his mouth opening and closing several times as he tried to speak but couldn't find the necessary words.
"No," he whispered as Tori stood, five inches shy of his height as she placed her hands in front of her body, palms outward.
"Calm down. You need to relax," she said, feeling her heart and throat tighten as his face crumpled, tears falling down his cheeks.
How could he have let that happen? How could he have been so...so weak? He felt embarrassed. Powerless. Debilitated. But overall, he felt disgusting. He felt foul and filthy. He was filthy, his skin crawling over the muscles and bones of his structure as a thick layer of grime coated him. He felt slimy, revolting, like he was covered in some toxic goo. He heard Tori call to him, heard her say his name over and over again, but couldn't focus on the words and notes she said. All he could hear was a loud, overwhelming thump.
Was that his heart, beating so erratically?
It wasn't important. What was important was that he had his memory back. More of it, at least. But nothing he could recall could be more monumental, more traumatic. He remembered all he needed to- enough for him to know he would much rather be insane and ignorant.
xXx
"Down this way," Morgan said, shifting the weight of the pizza box in his hands as he lead his team through the halls of the psychiatric hospital. Behind him, Hotch juggled three bags of Reid's requested cuisine as the rest of the team did the same with the drinks, awkwardly balancing seven twenty ounce bottles.
"Are we almost there, Morgan? I'm hungry," Emily said, smiling as she received a scathing glance from Morgan. He was already agitated from the constant insults regarding his inability to try new food, now they had to start the 'Are we there yet?' game?
Sighing, he said, "It's this floor, Prentiss, so relax."
She chuckled and he just rolled his eyes. It was good to see them again, all taunting jokes aside. Having gone three months without seeing them, he hadn't realized how much he had missed them until now, when he finally saw them. He couldn't imagine how anxious and excited Reid was feeling. He smirked, knowing that the young man was most likely driving the nurses insane.
"Right here," he said, nodding to the double doors ahead of them as he reached one hand out to press the button against the wall, a loud, buzzing sound filling the air around them. A light above the framing blinked green and Morgan shoved his shoulder forward, pushing the heavy door open and holding it as the team pushed past him, entering the small section between the two doors. After closing the metal entrance, he repeated the process with the second set of doors, finally emerging into the corridor, abuzz with activity.
He furrowed his brow. Rarely ever were so many nurses and orderlies on the floor at this time, unless a patient was having an 'episode' as they called it. Who was breaking down now?
"Agent Morgan!" A male nurse- Nick- called from behind the station, leaning forward with his hands gripping the laminate counter, a look of relief washing over him.
It was Reid.
It had to be.
The staff would respond to seeing him that way unless Reid was the one in trouble.
Pushing himself forward as he handed the pizza box to Rossi, he cocked his head and said, "What is it? Is Reid alright?"
Looking nervously at the other members, Nick pointed to them and said, "Your team?" When Morgan nodded, he sighed and shook his head. "He had a flashback, a bad one, from what Tori described. We didn't sedate him, Tori managed to calm him down enough but he's...upset. We had to call in Dr. Greene for an emergency interview. He's in there now."
Dr. Greene. That must've been the new doctor assigned to Reid- the one he disliked. Frowning, Morgan nodded. "Do you know what he remembered?"
Nick shook his head. "Confidential matters, you now. Tori's the only nurse who knows the specifics of his case," he said, shrugging his shoulders and then saying, "You can go in. I'm sure seeing his team will help."
'I hope so,' Morgan thought as he turned to face the others, biting his lip as they all looked to him as though he would answer all their questions.
"Derek?" JJ started, her eyebrows raising. Her voice was filled with worry at the vagueness of Nick's words. But Morgan didn't know what to say to her, knowing that the truth was not what she wanted to hear. Reid would feel worse seeing his team, if the flashbacks were bad. He would feel embarrassed and angry and stupid, much like he did when he had first stepped out of insanity and saw Morgan. But what would he say? 'Thanks for coming, but you being here will only make him more upset'? No, he couldn't do that. They needed to see Reid, and Reid would need to get used to their presence eventually.
Sighing, he said, "Let's go check it out."
He then turned and headed in the direction of Reid's room, trying his best not to run in and only cause a larger scene. It was difficult, as the fierce protectiveness he felt over the young agent had only grown in the near four months he spent visiting the hospital. But he reached the room in a facade of calm, the team following behind him as he peered in only to be ambushed by a flustered Tori.
"Agent Morgan!" she squealed, covering her face as she wiped away the remains of tears on her cheeks.
"What's wrong? What happened?" Morgan asked as he reached out and gripped her shoulders, squeezing them encouragingly. And then, the question that sat on the tip of his tongue, the answer to which he feared, he then asked, "What did he remember?"
She shook her head, wringing her hands. "I had given him some clothes, to try on. He put these jeans on and they were too big, but nothing a twisty-tie wouldn't fix. I didn't know it would trigger him!" she defended, guilt and horror evident on her panic-stricken face, black wisps of hair poking out from her bun. Finishing the story, she said, "He...remembered the abuse. The...sexual abuse. I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault," Morgan said, squeezing her shoulders. "He would have remembered eventually, it wasn't because of you." He seemed calm and assured, but on the inside, his body was a jumble of apprehension and fear. He remembered it then- the abuse he suffered at the hands of Varney. How would he react? How did he react? Swallowing, Morgan realized with the growing feeling of self hate that he hadn't been there when Reid needed him most. Once again.
She nodded, though she looked none too convinced at his words. Regardless, she stepped outside of the doorway and into the hall, smiling half-heartedly at Reid's teammates. For a second, it looked as though she were going to greet them all but thought better of it, turning on her heels and leaving with the squeak of her shoes.
Tearing his eyes from her retreating back, Morgan looked into the room and saw Reid sitting at the head of the bed, curled into himself as the doctor- presumably Dr. Greene- sat beside him on the desk chair. They were involved in a deep, quiet conversation which ended abruptly when Dr. Greene looked up and saw the agents, smiling warmly at them as he waved them forward.
"Your visitors are here, Spencer," he said as he beckoned them forward, causing the young man to look up at them as they slowly entered the room, a storm of conflicting emotions waging war in his tired hazel eyes.
"Spence," JJ said in an exhale, her hands reaching to cover her mouth as she placed her bag of drinks on the floor and moved towards him, her lips twitching into a smile.
"I-" he started, his eyes darting to look at Morgan. Searchingly, he said, "Who was he?"
Thrown off by the sudden question and dismissal of the team's presence, the agent looked at him, his lip falling open and shut several times. Who was who? Who was Reid asking about? Wasn't he excited to see his team?
"The partner," Reid clarified, his eyes straining as he tried to avoid looking at his colleagues. He knew the second he let his eyes wander over to them, he would be momentarily distracted. He would engage in conversations, pushing the memories as far from his mind as possible, in order to make the best of what would be a too-short visit. So, he needed to get his answers first, before he let the visitors consume his full attention.
"Reid, I don't think you really want to know," Morgan said, looking over to Hotch and Rossi as though begging for their interference. He didn't want to have this conversation with his friend- not now, not ever.
But Reid wouldn't have it. Shaking his head firmly as his lips snapped into a thin, white line, he said, "You don't know what I want. Who was it?"
Dr. Greene stood now, the team becoming aware that he, in fact, had never left the room and was still there. He was a rather short man, around five feet, two inches, with thinning red hair and pale, freckled skin that looked rather bizarre on a man who appeared to be in his late fifties. Walking around the bed, he extended his hand to Morgan, who stared at it for several long seconds before taking it in his own and shaking it.
"I'm Dr. Greene, Agent Morgan, as I'm sure you've already put together," he said, smiling briefly before adding, "I will be heading into my office now, to update some files. But, might I suggest that you inform Spencer of the partner? He will be better off knowing, though you may not think so." Sending an appraising look to the young patient, he then said, "Monsters are easier to deal with when they have a human face and name."
As he left the room, followed by the narrowed eyes of Reid, they heard a low growl come from the young man's throat. "He talks like I'm not even here!" he grumbled, rolling his eyes and turning them back to Morgan expectantly, wanting answers. He waited patiently as Morgan sighed and rubbed the bridge between his brows, walking over and taking the seat that Dr. Greene had occupied.
But before Morgan could speak, Rossi said "Reid, you need to understand that no one caught it. Andrew's partner is an Antisocial Personality, manipulative, as you know, and it was almost impossible to catch since no one was expecting Andrew to work with anyone." Slowly, Reid nodded, the familiar feeling of fear hollowing out his stomach and tightening his intestines. This wasn't going to be good, he just knew it.
But he had to know! The confusing swirl of the unknown snaking around his head would drive him insane for a second time! Knowing he had been violated and used in such a way was bad enough, but the thought of humanizing his abuser, making it less of a boogeyman and more like man, was comforting. It made the abuser vulnerable, like something he could conquer if he put his mind to it. But in its current state, resembling a shadowed demon that he could not see, only feel, the thought of fighting it seemed unfathomable. Like the lonely, underdog knight of the kingdom being pitted against the plaguing dragon, he could not wield his sword to it. But he knew, somehow he knew, that the instant he had a name, the instant he could imagine human details, the dragon would be whittled down to a homely man, one he could easily slay with just a little a work.
But he was not at all prepared for the name that left Morgan's mouth, and the images that followed.
"Andrew's partner was Heath Varney, Reid," he said quietly, his eyes looking deep into the young agent's. It seemed to take hours- eternities, even- before the words finally registered, the clarity of emotions that became recognizable in the hazel mists. Mortification, regret, resentment, shame...all of it pointed to obvious, self-deprecating thoughts that assaulted his mind. Groaning, Reid leaned forward, shielding his eyes from view.
"Of course, how stupid," he murmured, unintentionally making each and every agent in the room shift uncomfortably where they stood. They were the stupid ones. They had worked side by side with him. They had believed his charades. They nearly let him walk out of the country. They let him abuse Reid, time and time again. But as was common for the socially inept genius, he was none-the-wiser to the effect his words had had on his friends, too focused on his guilt to observe the same feeling in the eyes of his colleagues. How did he not see it? How did he not see Varney for what he was?
Of all the people they had ever caught, of all the criminals they had ever studied, Antisocial Personalities were the ones he hated the most. Psychotics were beyond their own reasoning and Neurotics had subjected themselves to their fate, designed by distorted parents or distorted minds. But the ones who were fully aware but uncaring, the ones who were calculating and cold, experimental with another's life, were the ones he despised. With no rhyme or reason, they tempted the devil and cheated the God by regarding life so ungratefully, by knowingly doing what was wrong, what was monstrous. Wasn't that the true definition of evil? Knowing what is wrong and, with that knowledge in mind, doing just that, not because you could justify the reason but just because you could?
And as he had just painfully learned, Antisocials could manipulate you better than any kind being ever could. He had sat beside a monster, a lion in sheep's clothing, and hadn't even known it.
"Spence? Are you okay?"
Reid looked up at the softly spoken words, suddenly aware of the team surrounding him. Right. He had forgotten about that. He was so distraught over the new information that he had let their visit slip his mind. 'Funny,' he bitterly thought to himself. 'The elephant seems to have lost its instant recall.'
Shaking his head of the sobering words his mind uttered to him, he said, "Yeah. Just...shocked, I guess." Well, if that wasn't an understatement. He was more than shocked. He was confused, he was angry, he was embarrassed- but he needed to do as he promised himself he would. He needed to push the revelation from his mind and focus on the visit.
Clearing his throat, he said, "How are you guys?"
Sharing concerned looks, Garcia said, "Reid, honey, it's okay to be upset-"
"I'm not upset," he said, harsher than he had intended. Licking his lips, he added, "I mean...it's fine. It's not a big deal."
"Reid, you don't need to act like it doesn't bother you, any sensible person would be upset," Hotch added.
But Reid said nothing, just stared into the dark, closed eyes of his boss. 'Former boss,' he reminded himself, knowing he was being placed on an emergency leave, knowing he was probably replaced by a temporary recruit, as they were often called. Would they keep the recruit though, deciding that the new addition to the team was more reliable, more sane than he was? They wouldn't do that. Would they? No, they were his family. They couldn't replace him anymore than they could their own brother.
Resigning from the argument, he sighed and said, "The food smells good."
No one said anything about the sudden topic change, deciding to give Reid the feigned happy visit he wanted, the visit created on false pretenses of good will.
xXx
Author's Note: Damn writer's block, making it take a couple days to get a chapter out...I do apologize for my apparent inability to update at an acceptable pace. It seems the end of the story is making it more difficult to write...
Anyway, thanks for all your kind reviews and whatnot! And I'm glad to hear my wordiness and inability to stick to guidelines have benefited the reviewers and readers who do not wish to see the story end. But it will, at some point, I swear! And then the sequel(s)! Plus, I already ideas for TWO more Criminal Minds story! I'm kind of excited to start them, but they'll have to wait until the sequel(s) are done, or mostly done. I get sidetracked too easily if I try to write too many things at one time (case and point: somewhere, in the long-forgotten folders of my computer, I have an original story that is being sorely neglected...)
As always, tell me your thoughts and suggestions. I always love to hear them!