Chapter Thirteen

01/07/2019. 06:32 hours. Bethesda General Hospital, Virginia.

Tara had known that Spencer was beginning to rouse from his drug-induced sleep when his heart rate crept up and his eyes darted back and forth behind his bruised, closed lids. A small whimper sounded from his lips and his brow creased. A stray tear rolled down the side of his face, getting lost in the elastic holding the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. His breaths stuttered as they quickened. His bottom lip quivered as more tears crept between his lashes. His fingers clenched into fists and a raw, choked sob erupted from the back of his throat. Tara reached for his right hand and clasped it firmly between both of hers. His wrists pulled weakly against the restraints.

"Shh, Spencer. It's okay," soothed Tara, her thumb rubbing circles into the back of his hand. Spencer shook his head, unable to open his eyes and face the world.

"No..." Spencer hiccupped, his voice distorted by the mask. "How can it be? This wasn't supposed to happen."

"What wasn't supposed to happen?" Tara pursed her lips in concern.

"I wasn't supposed to survive! I was meant to die!" Spencer's entire body trembled with wracked sobs, tears cascading down his face.

"Reid, you can't mean that. There's a lot of people out there who love you. It would destroy so many people if you were to leave." Spencer let out a wet snort.

"Yeah, like who? The Bureau couldn't give a shit. They knew what I went through and still sent me into a prison where I was raped three times! And I couldn't do anything to stop them! I'm weak! Pathetic! People just love tying me up and fucking me over! I couldn't even manage to fucking kill myself, and here I am tied up again! I just want it to go away. I don't want to be here anymore." Spencer's howl of despair shattered Tara's heart and brought tears to her own eyes.

"Spencer, I have to ask you something, and I can only be direct about it... If you were to get out of these restraints, would you try to end your life again?"

"Of course I fucking would! And I would take myself where none of you will find me."

"Shit, Spencer. This is really important. They're taking you to a psychiatric facility. They're going to give you ECT." Spencer creaked open his red-rimmed, puffy eyes and turned his head to look at Tara. For a fleeting moment, there was a flash of terror in his bloodshot, hazel eyes, though it was quickly replaced by a cold hardness.

"I hope it fucking kills me. Better yet, put a bullet between my eyes. Fast and efficient, and I'm sure you'd love it." Tara's mouth gaped in horror and her hand pulled away.

"Spencer! What the hell makes you think that?"

"I've seen the way you all look at me since my accident. I don't need your pity. I know you all see me as some fragile burden, so just fucking end it and you'll all be better off." Tara shakily came to her feet and punched the nurse call button on the wall. She had always been able to compartmentalise, but the rapid change in emotions in her colleague was frankly terrifying. His rage was directed at himself, but still radiated to those around him. The tears that continued to fall were both of pain and anger. Tara was unable to help the pang of hurt in her heart. No one had treated him any differently, had they? Spencer's neck arched back into the pillow, his veins and muscles cording through his pale skin. An ear-piercing scream tore from his throat. Tara leaned over the bed and lifted Spencer into a hug as far as his restraints would allow. He nestled his tear-sodden face into the crook between her neck and shoulder, his hot breaths panting against the mask that pressed into her faded Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Her left hand supported his upper back whilst the other gently cupped the back of his head, her dark fingers carding through his tangled curls.

"I'm so sorry, Spencer," said Tara sadly.

"Kill me... Please..." The words were merely a whisper, the voice broken and tortured, but the message was clear.

01/07/2019. 08:04 hours. North Virginia Psychiatric Facility, Falls Church, Virginia.

Spencer shuffled compliantly through the hospital corridors, a nurse on either side of him, firmly gripping his biceps. The padded cuffs that he had been secured to the bed with had been unbuckled from the bed and attached to a belt around his waist, holding his wrists in front of his hips. Another strap had been fed between his legs and secured the waist belt in place. The ends of a third strap had been buckled around each ankle as a set of shackles. His eyes were fixed in front of him, dark and unforgiving, and his jaw was clenched. He knew where they were taking him and he hoped, no prayed to a deity, any deity, that the treatment would kill him. He could have snorted derisively at himself. The treatment would not kill him. With a bit of luck, it would make him forget. Memory loss was a common side effect after all. He felt nothing as they approached the electroconvulsive therapy suite.

The nurses assisted Spencer to a gurney, lifting his bound ankles onto it and adjusting the straps so that his limbs were attached to the bed. The cannula remained in the back of his left hand from the previous hospital. A piece of gauze had been taped over the puncture point in his right hand. A nurse wearing pale blue scrubs and a mask over her face loomed over him with a clipboard in her hands.

"Could you confirm your full name for me, please?" Spencer rolled his eyes to her. He knew she was doing her job, but it irritated him nonetheless.

"Dr Spencer Walter Reid."

"And your date of birth?"

"Twelfth of October nineteen-eighty-one."

"And you understand why you're here?" Spencer clicked his tongue. "We have to obtain consent before the procedure."

"Come on, like I consented to this in the first place. It was made crystal clear to me that if I remained suicidal, the treatment was going to be given to me. Given that I asked my co-worker to kill me, then I guess that constitutes as suicidal." Spencer let out an unamused huff.

"Do you understand the procedure?" The nurse was met with a stony silence. "You are having bilateral ECT today. You will be hooked up at an EKG and EEG. A blood pressure cuff will be placed around an ankle. You will then be given a short-acting general anaesthetic. Once you're under, a bite guard will be placed into your mouth and conduction gel will be applied to your temples. The paddles will then placed on your temples and will initiate a seizure. There is always a risk of mild memory loss, headache, confusion, jaw pain, muscle aches, and nausea. Once you've had your treatment, you will be taken to the male admission ward. Depending on how you respond to this treatment will determine how many treatments you will need. Do you understand?"

"Just get it over with already. Hopefully I won't wake up." The nurse sighed. It was not often they had a patient so profoundly depressed and suicidal.

Spencer stared blankly at the ceiling as the gurney was guided into the surgical suite. A middle-aged Indian woman stood near a white box on a trolley that was adorned with multiple dials. Her jet black hair had been pulled into a braid that trailed down her back. She wore a set of dark green scrubs and watched her patient being moved into the room from behind a pair of purple-rimmed spectacles. The anaesthesiologist also wore scrubs, only they were deep red in colour. He tucked EKG electrodes under the neck of Spencer's plain white t-shirt and pressed them down to his chest, before hooking them up to the monitor. He clipped an oxygen monitor on the tip of Spencer's left index finger. The nurse applied EEG electrodes behind Spencer's ears, his forehead, and scalp. She turned to the doctor.

"Dr. Sharma? This is Dr. Spencer Reid. He's here for emergency bilateral ECT for suicidality," said the nurse firmly who grabbed a blood pressure cuff and fastened it around Spencer's right ankle, then inflated it.

"Thank you, Maggie," came Dr. Sharma's heavily accented voice. "Hello, Dr. Reid. My name is Dr. Sharma and I am going to be your assigned psychiatrist. I know the procedure has been explained to you." Spencer rolled his eyes and groaned in exasperation.

"For fuck's sake, can't you just get on with it?!" barked Spencer, his face contorting in rage. Maggie handed a bag and mask to Dr. Sharma who placed it over Spencer's nose and mouth. She ensured there was a tight seal between the mask and Spencer's face with her left hand, her right squeezing the bag. The anaesthesiologist clicked a syringe into the cannula in Spencer's hand. It took little time for Spencer's eyes to slip shut and his limbs to slacken. The mask was removed and Spencer's jaw was pulled down to open his mouth. A rubber bite guard was inserted between his teeth and protruded between his slightly parted lips. Dr. Sharma applied cold, clear conduction gel onto the young man's temples and turned a dial on the box. A slip of paper began to emerge from the box as Dr. Sharma gathered the round paddles into her hands. The anaesthesiologist and Maggie both nodded to confirm they were ready. She pressed the paddles to Spencer's temples. His body remained motionless, save for the bobbing of his right foot indicating that the seizure had commenced. The paddles were removed and set on top of the box. Dr. Sharma watched the line spiking on the paper as the seizure continued.

After two minutes, Spencer's foot stilled. Maggie pried the bite guard out of Spencer's mouth. Dr. Sharma pressed the mask back down over the genius' face and squeezed the bag to provide him with some oxygen. Maggie rubbed soothing circles into Spencer's limp hand as he attempted to open his eyes. His eyelids fluttered slightly before closing again.

"Come back to us now, Dr. Reid. It's over." Spencer tried again and managed to open his eyes into narrow slits. He let out a small groan. His head was throbbing and his jaw ached. He felt muddled, yet... Peaceful. The bag and mask was removed, and a different oxygen mask was hooked over his head and applied to his face.

"We're just giving you some oxygen as your levels have dropped. We're going to move you into recovery before taking you up to the ward," said Maggie. Spencer blinked sluggishly at her and gave a small nod of understanding. His eyes drifted shut again as the gurney was wheeled out of the surgical suite and into the recovery room.

01/07/2019. 10:11 hours. FBI Offices, Quantico, Virginia.

JJ had been lost in thought as she tried to work on her reports. The same file had been open and untouched for the past half an hour, yet she was unable to bring herself back to the present. Her deep blue eyes stared off into space and she fingered the locket around her neck numbly. The coffee that Luke had brought her had long gone cold. It had devastated her to see Spencer's desk still in disarray from being plucked away from his much loved paperwork and sent to the custodial that had ultimately destroyed him. The sound of a throat being cleared snapped JJ out of her whirlwind of thoughts. She turned her gaze to the athletic figure stood next to her desk. Melanie Carter looked very different in her civilian clothing. A patch of her pink hair had been scalp-braided at one side just above her left ear. The rest of her locks tumbled over her right shoulder. She wore a Star Wars t-shirt underneath a black leather biker jacket and dark blue jeans. Her green eyes were fixed on JJ and she bit her bottom lip anxiously.

"Uh, hi. I'm here to see Agent Prentiss," stated Mel. JJ gave her a small smile and extended her hand.

"Hi, good to see you again, Mel. I'm Agent Jareau. How are you?" Mel shrugged and cast her eyes down to the ground.

"I've left San Quentin. I'm on personal leave before transferring to Mount Pleasant. I couldn't stay there after what happened. I actually feel sick knowing how many people were involved. Shows you can't trust anyone, huh?" JJ gave her a tight-lipped smile.

"Yeah."

"How is Dr. Reid?" JJ's eyes glistened as she averted her attention to the fingers she had begun to drum absent-mindedly against her desk.

"Not good. He started self-harming when he was released from hospital. Two of our team members had to put him in custody to take him to the hospital when he became violent. He –" JJ's voice caught in her throat as she attempted to swallow down the lump that had formed. "He tried to end his life in the hospital. He's been transferred to North Virginia Psychiatric Facility for emergency treatment." Mel brought a trembling hand up to her mouth to stifle a cry, a tear tracing down her face.

"Miss Carter?" came Emily's voice from above JJ. Mel glanced up to see Emily leaning on the rail of the platform above JJ. "Jayje? Do you want to join us for this meeting?"

"Yes." JJ shot out of her swivel chair and swept the creases out of her navy blue shirt. "Can I get you anything, Mel? Tea, coffee?" Mel offered her a grateful smile.

"A coffee would be great. Milk with three sugars, please." JJ chuckled.

"You'd definitely get on great with Spencer." With a tip of her head, Emily indicated Mel up the few steps to her office. JJ headed to the coffee machine in the break room and set about making coffee for them all.

Mel perched apprehensively on the comfortable plush couch in Emily's office and set her purse down on the floor next to her feet. She glanced around uncomfortably. Emily's office had little in the way of personal items. A brass plaque on her desk read Emily Prentiss BAU Unit Chief. A potted plant withered near the window, clearly having been neglected with recent events. A number of awards hung on the off-white wall. Emily dragged to the two armchairs from in front of her desk over to the sofa and sat down on one. She leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. JJ slid into the room and pushed the door shut with her hip, three takeout cups balanced precariously between her hands. She set them down on Emily's desk before handing them out. JJ took the remaining seat and clasped her cup in her hands between her parted knees.

"Thanks for coming in to see us, Miss Carter," said Emily with a taut smile.

"Please, call me Mel."

"Okay. I want you to talk us through the day that Dr. Reid came to San Quentin." JJ sipped her steaming hot coffee as she watched Mel chew her bottom lip in thought. Emily tapped a button on her cell phone to record.

"I was assigned to the visitor gate in the morning when Dr. Reid arrived. I was asked to escort him to Death Row. We talked a lot about our work... Well, mostly I talked. I took him to the interview room on the block and went to get Walter Melnick. I was on visitation until Three pm. I was then assigned to cell block C. I was due to finish my shift at eight but had to stay on C until nine-forty-five as one of the officers didn't turn up on time. Then I was asked to go and man the front desk and cameras as the officer who was meant to be there had abandoned his post." Mel took a deep breath and sipped her sickly sweet beverage.

"I saw that the camera for Death Row had gone blank so I tried to radio for one of the other officers to look into it. No one answered me so I grabbed my flashlight and headed to Death Row to figure out what was going on. Death Row is one of my usual assigned blocks so I knew which camera it was. I went to have a look when I noticed a light under the door to the execution chamber. I knew that it would be in darkness as no one was scheduled to be executed that night. I tried to get as close as I could without attracting attention to myself. I looked inside to see Warden Michaels stood there with another two officers."

"Could you tell us the names of those officers?" asked Emily. Mel wrinkled her nose in thought.

"Martin Stamp and Rodney Broderick."

"Okay, thank you. Please, continue."

"Warden Michaels stepped aside slightly and that's when I saw a tall, thin figure strapped down to the gurney. The figure had a bag over their head so I couldn't see their face. They were struggling against the cuffs. I recognised the clothing. The figure was wearing a purple button-up shirt, black dress slacks and Chucks." She let out a small laugh. "And how could I forget the mismatched socks? Having escorted him earlier in the day, I knew that's what Dr. Reid was wearing. As soon as I saw what was happening, I ran back to the reception which is when I saw you guys."

"Thank you, Mel. That's really helpful." Mel let out a long sigh and closed her eyes. Emily shut off the recording and pocketed her cell phone.

"Agent Jareau says that Dr. Reid is in a bad way." Emily nodded sadly.

"You can call me Emily. This is JJ. You can call Dr. Reid Spencer or Reid." Emily reached for her coffee at her feet. "Yeah, he's bad. I had word just before this meeting that he has had his first treatment and spent an hour in recovery to get his oxygen levels back up. He's now settled into his room on the ward."

"Treatment?" asked Mel with a tilt of her head in confusion. JJ swallowed hard.

"Electroconvulsive therapy, or ECT. It's used in emergency situations for actively suicidal patients. We're hoping he won't need many treatments. He'll undergo therapy whilst he's there and probably start on medication to help his mood," replied JJ. Mel simply nodded in response.

"Please, tell Spencer that I'm asking about him when you see him. I'd very much like to see him again."

"We will," answered Emily firmly.