Fic: Personal Hell (1/1 Criminal Minds)

[thefrogg]

Personal Hell (1/1)

Title:  Personal Hell
Author:  Frogg
Beta: Jadesfire & Scarysushi
Rating:  Gen
Comments/Warnings/Disclaimers:  The only character I own isn't named in this story.  Everyone else belongs to someone else.  Damnit.
Pairing:  Reid & Morgan friendship
Spoilers:  Through Revelations, particularly Natural Born Killer, the Big Game, Revelations, and Profiler, Profiled

Reid bowed his head, clasping his hands behind his neck to keep them from straying as memories flashed behind closed lids.

Hazy rooms of sunlight and sickness, too-sharp memories of his mother's descent into her own personal hell.

Half-lit cabins, a stark contrast of rustic living and stolen technology.  Scent of blood and sweat and fear, of decaying leaves and old stone.

Glass vials feeding their poison into his blood, straps tight around arm and wrist and ankle.

Glass vials even now burning holes in his satchel, calling to him.

Eyes wide and unseeing, Reid reared back in his chair, the soft click of coffee cup on desk echoing as loud as the cocking of a gun in his mind. 

"Reid?"

He knew that voice.  Didn't stop the tremors, slow the thundering roar of his own heartbeat in his ears, but he knew that voice.  If he could only...

"Reid, it's ok, you're here in the BAU..."

Reid lost track of the words, clung to the voice.

***

"...you're safe here, no one's going to hurt you," Morgan kept up a soothing stream of comfort and encouragement, ignoring JJ's and Emily's shocked stares.  This wasn't working; the noise, the attention, the shifting light were all polluting the faint lifeline his voice offered Reid.  "JJ, go make sure the break room's empty," he said without breaking the flow of words.  "Emily, clear the way between here and there.  Reid," and Morgan risked touching, resting a hand on Reid's elbow.  "We're going to get up, and I'm going to take you into the break room where it's quiet, okay?"

Reid didn't answer, only stared from sightless eyes.

"Come on, here we go, up and at 'em," Morgan continued, slowly, gently tugging Reid out of his chair.  There were more eyes trained on them now, worried and supportive, sharp and calculating.  "We're just going to the break room, it'll be nice and quiet and safe there..."  Words for the eyes watching, Gideon and Hotchner, held powerless in the storm of fear and desperation flowing off Reid in waves; tone for Reid, guiding him step by step out of the pit, down the now-empty hall and into the break room.

JJ held the door for him, then nodded and left with a worried glance at Reid.  The door shut with a soft thud of wood against frame; no click of doorknob like what had apparently set off Reid's flashback.

It was a matter of moments before Reid was resting in another chair, silent and trembling.

Morgan talked his mouth and throat dry, and well on the way to hoarse, only aware of the passage of time by the gradual lessening of tension in Reid's body, the loosening of the crushing grip on his hand.  Finally, finally there was a faint moan and the rush of awareness in Reid's eyes.

"There you are."

"Mm...Morgan?"  Reid stammered, looking around in confusion, only to be drawn back to the concern and understanding in Morgan's knowing gaze.

"You had a flashback," Morgan explained patiently.

"I...I was..."

"Hey, hey," Morgan hurried to turn Reid's attention away from whatever hell he'd visited.  "You were locked inside your head and didn't hear me bringing you your coffee."

"I'm sorry, I...ah."  Reid frowned, trying to banish painful memories.

"Stay with me, Reid."

Reid looked at him quizzically.  "Where would I go?"

Morgan smiled grimly and moved to take a seat, viciously suppressing reaction to the pins and needles in his knees.  "Back inside your head, and I'm not going to let that happen.  We need to talk."

Reid froze.

Morgan ignored the scared rabbit impression.  "I know you don't want to talk to any of us about whatever's been bothering you.  About whatever happened in that cabin.  You've made that clear to me, to all of us on the team.  But this flashback?  Just proves to everyone involved that locking it up and pretending it didn't happen isn't working."

"I-I can't, I..."  Reid turned away, cheeks burning with shame.

Morgan reached out, gently turning Reid back to look him in the eye.  "You're my friend and my brother, and I'm not going to sit here and let you destroy yourself with whatever memories you're carrying around.  Not when getting your coffee winds up scaring you out of your mind." Reid tried to hunch his shoulders, hide, but Morgan was relentless.  "You don't have to talk to me.  Or to anyone else on the team.  This complex is filled with people, Reid.  Talk to one of them.  Talk to one of the people we've worked with on a case.  Open a phonebook and call a therapist."

Reid was shaking, breath shallow and jagged.  "You don't...I can't talk about this!  Not..."

"I don't understand?  I understand that secrets hurt, that they turn dark and scary and painful, and keeping them gives them power over you.  Look at me."  Anger crept into Morgan's voice.  "Look at me!  You think I liked what went down in Chicago?  That I liked having Hotch and Garcia crack open my past?"

Reid straightened in shock, drawing in a sharp breath, stunned that Morgan would even bring it up.

Morgan watched as his words sank in, as Reid's lightning-quick mind sluggishly started churning, and nodded.  "Yeah, Reid, every one of us has our own personal hell.  And I speak from experience when I say it's a lot easier to live with when you're not trying to keep it a secret."

Reid thought about that, turned it over in his mind.  "Hotch..."  He swallowed and tried again.  "Hotch uses his-"

"As a weapon, yeah.  He does."

"And you?" Reid managed to whisper, knowing he shouldn't ask and unable not to.

Morgan smiled gently, and knew Reid had gotten the message when the younger man blushed and broke eye contact.  "That's the difference, Reid.  That's why Hotch is a profiler and Perotta is a killer.  Hotch learned to use his experiences.  Perotta let his experiences use him."

Reid swallowed hard and turned away, confusion and pain written in his expression.  "But how?  What am I supposed to learn from...from..."  He broke off on a low moan and wrapped his free arm around himself, as if he were cold.

"That's what you need to find out," Morgan said, answering the painful grip on his hand with a reassuring squeeze.  "I'll be honest with you, it's going to take some time.  Things like this always do."

"I...I can't do this..."  Reid swallowed back the word so painfully obvious to Morgan.  Alone.

Reaching out, Morgan stroked Reid's hair, brushing his fingers over a too-sharp cheekbone.  "You don't have to.  I'm here, and I'll do whatever I can to help.  Whatever I can, that's a promise."

Reid was unnaturally still against his fingers, as if afraid to move away, afraid to lean into the touch.  Afraid to lose what he'd so seldom had; afraid to ask for what was so precious to him.

Driven by angry conviction borne of epiphany, Morgan stood, pulling Reid up with him and into his arms.  Reid gasped in surprise, fighting half-heartedly before giving in and burrowing closer with something that sounded like a choked sob.

"That's it, Reid, let it out.  It's okay to cry, I got you."  Morgan shook his finally-freed hand violently for a moment to help restore bloodflow, then pulled Reid closer until they were chest to chest and hot tears splashed against his collarbone.

For the next little while, Reid went through the entire spectrum from wracking sobs to silent, fisting his hands in the back of Morgan's shirt.  Each time he tried to regain control, to bottle it all up again, Morgan was there with reassurance and encouragement and coaxed him out of it, until Reid rested spent and exhausted against him.

"Reid?" Morgan whispered after an eternity of comfort offered and accepted, the younger man's body a warm weight in his arms.  "You okay?"

There was an unintelligible murmur, then a sigh that wafted across damp skin, raising gooseflesh.

"What was that?"

Another mutter, this time in complaint, and then Reid half-raised his head so he wasn't speaking directly into Morgan's shirt.  "I...I think I needed that."  He kept his eyes down, staring at slick skin, tear-soaked cloth.  "I'm s-sorry, I seem to have-"

"Reid," Morgan cut him off.  "It's okay.  You're worth a hell of a lot more than one lousy tee shirt."

Reid glanced up, as if reassuring himself that Morgan was telling him the truth, and froze.  "You...You're..."  He couldn't say it, just raised one hand to Morgan's cheek, feeling the warm wetness transfer itself to his finger.

"Crying?"

Reid nodded.

"You're worth it, and one of these days I'm going to get you to believe that."  A small smile graced Morgan's lips, and he tilted his head.  "Besides, that thing about real men not crying?  Complete bullshit."

That startled a laugh out of Reid, and from the answering grin on Morgan's face, it was what the older man had wanted.  Feeling brave and grateful, Reid gave him one last, long squeeze, a hug Morgan happily returned before releasing him and giving him a little space.  "Th-thanks, I, I don't..."

"Reid."

"Oh, um.  It's okay."

Morgan could hear the smile in Reid's voice.  "Yes, it is.  Now...Why don't you stay in here for a few minutes and figure out where your wits went.  I'm going to go talk to Hotch, let him know you're taking the rest of the day off.  Oh, and Reid?" he added, one hand on Reid's arm before the younger man moved out of reach.

"Yes?"  Reid looked confused.

"Any time you want a hug, you let me know.  Public, private, I don't care."  Morgan nodded at Reid's blush before moving to the door, where he paused again and looked back.

"Morgan?   I really will be all right.  I...I think."

"No doubt in my mind, Reid, there never was.  I was just wondering why you didn't say anything about taking the rest of the day off."

Reid smiled then, a wistful, half-sad, half-relieved smile thankfully devoid of the weight of fear and pain that had burdened him since...  "I think...there's someone I need to talk to."

"I'm glad."  Morgan shut the door with a smile, feeling a tremendous weight lift from his shoulders.