Please, HEED the warnings on chapter one. This could be triggery for some people. This was a hard chapter to write...
Chapter Seven
Couldn't Let You Do This Alone
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How long has it been?
When did Aaron leave?
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Spencer had been sitting on the floor of Jack's room for what seemed like hours wondering what he was going to do now. His lover had walked out on him after remembering how he'd raped him, and his son was dead. He was alone in a house that was suffocating him with memories.
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I just need to forget.
I just need to stop this damn ache in my soul.
I know how to do that.
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He gingerly stood up, his body stiff from immobility. He was still clutching the manatee in his trembling arms, clinging to it like a lifeline. It was Jack's. Jack loved that manatee.
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"Jack NEEDS that manatee, Aaron. I will not be defeated by a carnival game."
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He hugged the toy a little tighter as a sob escaped his throat.
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God, I can't do this anymore!
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He slowly walked back to the master bath. When he entered the room he glanced at the mirror. He hardly recognized his reflection. There was nothing there anymore. He felt like he was walking around but he was empty inside; like he didn't have a reason to be here anymore.
Spencer reached up onto the very top shelf of the medicine cabinet above the toilet and felt around until his fingers hit the glass vial he'd hidden away. He took the bottle containing that cool liquid…his deliverance, his escape….into his hand and brought it down to stare at it. Such a tiny thing, but it could do so much.
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It can change reality.
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He sat down with his back leaning against the tub while he continued to stare at the liquid.
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I can do this.
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He drew up 4mg into the syringe.
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Is that enough?
No…I know that's not enough.
"Tell me it doesn't make it better."
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Suddenly, he knew he needed more. He didn't care how much; he just knew he needed more. He pulled the plunger out as far as it would go, filling the syringe to capacity.
He tied the terry cloth belt around his arm one last time and placed the needle to his skin.
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This is ok.
Everything is going to be ok now.
I need it to be ok now.
I'm so tired….
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He allowed himself one last thought of Aaron.
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"I love you, you know. I love your rambling. I love everything about you, Spencer."
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"I love you too, Aaron…." he breathed. "I'm so sorry, Love. I just c-can't—" a strangled sob escaped his throat. He looked at the syringe in his hands. His voice was wet with grief and his throat was tight as he finished his goodbye to the empty room. "I just can't do this anymore. Please….please forgive me, Aaron," he choked.
He inserted the needle into his vein and depressed the plunger, flooding his system with chemicals and rushing sweet ecstasy to his brain.
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A soft breeze hits his face.
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He gradually slumped down to the floor.
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He hears a boy's laughter.
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His eyes closed as his head gently landed on the tile.
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"Papa! You came!"
Jack.
"Of course I came, buddy. I couldn't let you do this alone."
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His mind shut down as he found the exodus he'd been yearning for….
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They walk hand in hand, Papa and son, over to the pile of sand to begin building their castle.
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…..and he drifted off into oblivion.
He'd been driving for three hours. He had no particular destination in mind, he just knew he'd needed to get out of that house and clear his head.
Spencer was using again.
Spencer was hurting.
He'd hurt Spencer.
Spencer was using because he had hurt him.
No….he hadn't just hurt him, he'd fucking RAPED him.
This wasn't Spencer's fault.
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This is all my fault!
How did I let this get so out of control?
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He'd been gone long enough. He should have never left Spencer alone like that to begin with, after everything. He knew now what his lover had been battling against and he'd abandoned him in that house to fight off the memories alone.
Those memories that would rip at your heart, and shred your spirit like shards of broken glass.
He needed to get back there, back to his Heart, back to Spencer.
When he walked into the house, the lights were out. That in itself was odd, since Spencer didn't care for the dark.
That was his first clue that something wasn't right.
He walked farther into the living room, calling out. "Spencer? Love, where are you?"
Silence.
That was his second clue.
He walked back toward their bedroom, passing by Jack's room and peeking in. It was vacant.
When he entered the bedroom he was assaulted with more darkness, but he saw faint light flooding through the crack at the bottom of the door to the master bathroom.
Lightly, he knocked at the door, "Spencer, it's me. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left the way I did. Can I please come in?"
Nothing.
Third clue.
"Spencer?" Panic was starting to settle down in his belly; icy tendrils invading his gut.
When he still got no reply, Aaron tried the knob. The door opened with a slight creak. He stepped in and was greeted with a scene out of his worst nightmare.
Spencer, his Love, his Heart, the only thing he had left in this world, was lying on his side, motionless on the cold floor. His face was partly covered by long, brown hair leaving only his chin and lips visible from the angle he was at. A belt was tightly encircling his upper right arm. An empty syringe was on the floor in front of him. There was no visible movement. Spencer was still, he was quiet, he was pale….
A stuffed manatee was keeping watch.
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Oh god, oh god!
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He immediately fell to his knees at the doctor's side.
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No no no no!
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Shaky fingers reached out to touch Spencer's neck, praying, praying, for a flutter underneath.
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Please, don't let this be happening!
I can't do this again.
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His fingers landed on their target, above the carotid artery, but he knew. He knew without having to feel anything else.
Cold.
Spencer was too cold.
He was too still.
He was too quiet.
Tears fell freely from his eyes like a dam had been broken. His face crumpled in anguish as he screamed his agony into the silence. His body shook uncontrollably and he felt like he was going to have a heart attack.
"Spencer!" he sobbed out, looking at the form in front of him. "Honey…." he leaned down to lay his forehead on Spencer's temple, "Baby…why? Why did you do this!?" Tears fell to Spencer's hair as he wept. He moved the golden brown locks from his sleeping face and pulled his love into his arms. Spencer's body lay limp and cold in his grasp as he rocked back and forth trying to soothe a soul that was no longer there. "Why did you leave me….?"
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There was still so much life left to live….
How did this happen?
God, how did this fucking happen!?
Spencer!
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Rossi found him.
He'd stopped by to check on the two men after the funeral.
He knew something was wrong when he walked up to the front door and found it open, the house dark and quiet inside.
He pulled his side arm and proceeded to enter.
He cleared each room as he searched for Aaron and Spencer. They were all empty until he reached the last rooms to be searched, the master bedroom and bathroom.
The bedroom was cleared, and Rossi noted a light on in the bathroom and the door partly open.
He stepped into the room, past the door and looked down to see Aaron sitting in the middle of the floor, his back facing the senior profiler. It appeared that he was holding Reid and rocking back and forth slightly.
He holstered his gun.
He tried to keep the panic from his voice as he asked, "Aaron, what's going on?"
Nothing.
He leaned down next to his friend and examined his face. That's when he realized, to his horror, that Aaron wasn't cognizant of his presence. He was just staring unseeingly into the distance.
He tried again, softer, as he placed a hand to Aaron's shoulder, "Aaron, you need to talk to me. Tell me what happened to Spencer." With that, the senior profiler looked down to gaze upon the unmoving form lying in Aaron's arms.
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He's too pale.
He's too still.
He's not here anymore.
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Rossi looked back up to his broken friend and realized Aaron wasn't there anymore, either.
"Aaron…" he breathed.
Rossi looked around.
He saw the vial and syringe lying on the floor.
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Good god….this can't be happening.
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What the hell did I just do? I love Reid...I really do. :(