Criminal Minds 1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Spencer Reid considered his year of sobriety his greatest accomplishment. More so than his first, second, and third PhDs. More so than his job at the FBI. More so than his ability to overcome all that had happened to him as a child. It was the simple fact that he had stayed clean for six months today, and as he walked down the street towards the FBI doors, he smiled. A slight bounce in his step even made itself known, and it took all his self control not to laugh out loud in his pride.

He swung open both doors with both hands, immediately making his presence known. it was a beautiful day, right towards the middle of Fall when the gentle breeze hit his face just so and the trees had begun to change color. Hell, it was even almost Halloween.

He bounced up the stairs two at a time, and finally reached the bullpen, entering and looking around at the scene in front of him. People rushing, papers everywhere, all chaos and no order. A combination that severely bothered him. JJ rushed past, and he stopped her. "Wait, JJ. Tell me what's going on."

"Wheels up in 15, we'll talk about it on the jet."

Spencer nodded and immediately sprang into action, rushing to his desk and grabbing his go-bag. He turned to go, but not before stopping, opening his drawer, and grabbing his 6 months coin. He was meant to get his year coin at his meeting tonight, but it would have to wait. The team needed him.

On the jet, his settled into his seat and glanced out the window as the plane lifted off. He looked back towards the team, who were all poring over files and documents. JJ passed by again and dropped a file on the table in front of him. "Here you are, Spence." He thanked her and flipped it open.

Their unsub had captured, moved, tortured, and killed his victims before hanging them in their own homes. Each murder was so drawn out, so calculated, they almost seemed ritualistic, despite the speed and agility the unsub had demonstrated. The victimology consisted of all male victims, aged 22 to 27, and they all had big brown eyes and thin frames with sharp cheekbones. Reid swallowed. They all looked just like him.

Morgan glanced over at this. "Hey, kid, you okay?"

Reid cleared his throat, then looked up and nodded. "Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine. Five victims in one week." He swallowed again, and his voice cracked when he next spoke. "Wow."

Morgan raised his eyebrows, looking back down at the file. "Seems almost impossible to do without getting caught."

"Or spotted," Garcia's voice suddenly rang through the conference caller in the center of the plane. "All victims were snatched up in broad daylight. We have ourselves a serious camera whore, the unsub was caught by a camera every time, but they seriously knew how to play the angles."

"Victims found in the same dumping site every time, a dumpster in midtown," Prentiss noted.

Rossi spoke up. "Makes you wonder why he would bring them each back to their own homes to hang them, then dump them somewhere else."

"Dumping them elsewhere is a sign of an organized criminal…"

"…And bringing them to their own homes first shows confidence."

"He knew these victim's routines, he knew when their homes would be empty, each move was calculated. Do you think he knew our victims?" Spencer asked.

Hotch passed by, answering Reid's question. "They're so similar in appearance, it seems unlikely he would know this many people who all looked alike, let alone have them all be nearby and have killed them all in the same week."

"So he stalked them," Prentiss concluded. "Think he stalked each one at a time or all together?"

"Unless he's a very effective and quick stalker, he had to do it all at once. The small amount of time between each murder suggests that," Reid mumbled, looking over the file again.

JJ suddenly stopped, looking at Reid, her eyes wide. "Spence!"

He quickly looked up, startled. "What? What is it?"

"Today! It's your first year today!" He looked down, suddenly embarrassed at her having brought it to the attention of the whole team, but quickly looked up again, grinning.

"Yeah. It is."

Morgan reached over and slapped him on the back, Rossi shook his hand, Hotch gave him a warm smile, and Emily gave him a hug. He felt loved. He felt safe.

"Thanks. For remembering. And for your support. I couldn't have done it without all of you," Reid muttered, suddenly shy again.

"Of course you could have," Prentiss said, reassuring him. "You're stronger than any of us."

Reid grinned, looking back down at the case file. "Alright, thanks, for the ego-boost, guys, but we have an unsub to catch." They all mutually agreed and got back to work.

When they touched down in Chicago, Reid was still riding the purely sober high of his accomplishment, but the high was quickly stamped upon when they entered Chicago P.D., the entire building in panicked chaos. Chaos again. Reid frowned.

In the conference room, Reid watched as the detective in charge of the case, Rymer, gave his spiel.

"We think we're looking for a man who knows his victims. He knows their routines, he knows their lives-"

Reid spoke up. "Actually, that doesn't mean he knew them. He is probably a hedonistic killer, looking to fuel his own personal satisfaction. It may be sexual for him. He has a type, and they are so specific that it is very unlikely he knew them. He has obsessions, not acquaintances."

Rymer just stared at Reid, and Hotch gave him a nudge in the ribs. Reid shut up.

"We'll have a profile for you within the next 24 hours," Hotch offered.

"Hotch, based on the time between killings, he's set to kill in another 12. We need to do this faster than that," Prentiss whispered. Hotch nodded slowly.

"I know. We'll do the best we can."

"Actually, I think he's probably taking a break. No one fitting victimology has been reported missing. He would have already taken his victim by now. He's probably taking a few days to regroup, stalk his next set of victims, and plan them out," Reid offered.

Hotch considered this. "You're probably right, Reid. Either way, we don't have any time to waste."

Hotch was right, and they got to work. But Reid couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched. He never felt comfortable outside of Quantico, but this was different. He kept checking over his shoulder, and once or twice he could swear he heard someone calling his name. But no one was ever there.

It didn't stop him from being scared.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Welcome one and all, to The Funeral. (That sounded eery.) These first view chapters will be posted rather quickly because I've been writing this one for a while. So enjoy while they come quick, cos it's almost midterms and they won't always be this often haha. Love to all. **

CHAPTER 2

"Alright, so geographical profile thus far is done. All victims were taken from the city, but were killed in their homes in the suburbs, each within a 2 mile radius of one another. With that, we can deduce that he's probably somewhere within THIS area," Reid circled a place on the map.

Prentiss nodded, looking the map over. "Looks good. Let's bring this to Rymer."

Rymer had been working with Hotch and JJ in another room.

"We're stationed around the dump site now, we've got 24 hour detail," Rymer noted.

JJ sighed. "Maybe if this had been kept from the press, that might of worked, but now it's out there. We've caught his attention. No," she sighed again. "He won't be dumping there anymore."

Rymer swore, looking down at his feet. Reid cleared his throat.

"We have a geographical profile."

Hotch nodded. "Good, take it to Morgan and work with Rossi on developing a full profile."

Reid nodded, and they went. They spread out the map on the table, and Reid rolled up his sleeves. He quickly caught sight of the few faint scars still drawn on his arms, and hesitated, before rolling his sleeves down again. Prentiss saw this.

"You okay?"

He looked up. "Hm? Yeah. I'm… fine." He really needed to get to a meeting. He was starting to get anxious, particularly with his own similarities to the victims. He knew he had nothing to worry about, but the fear still gripped him. "Can… Can I catch you guys in an hour?"

Prentiss understood. "I'll tell Hotch. You do what you need to do."

Morgan nodded. "Proud of you, kid."

Reid just nodded, embarrassed, and swallowed, before grabbing his bag and ducking out.

He found a local meeting, and sat at the table, drumming his fingers as the woman at the podium spoke.

He always loved meetings. He knew few people there did, but he loved it. It was a reminder of how far he had come, how hard it had been to stop drowning and make it back up to the surface, and how he still worked diligently every day to stay afloat.

Once the meeting wrapped up, he grabbed a coffee and stood outside with the other members at the hall, enjoying quiet conversation and occasionally coughing when the stench of cigarettes came his way.

It wasn't until he was about to leave that he noticed a tall, thin man with brown curly hair that tumbled around his ears, in the corner, staring at him intently. Almost curious. Reid swallowed, and excused himself, walking back out to the street and hailing a cab, checking over his shoulder the whole time.

Back at the station, Reid was quiet, he had lost his spark and energy, and he kept to himself. Morgan approached him from behind, slapping the kid on the back, who jumped. "What?" Reid said, voice shaking.

"Whoa, easy, kid. Just checking in on you. How you doing?"

Reid swallowed, nodded, and looked down at his feet. "I'm fine. Better, now."

Morgan grinned. "Glad to hear it. We're headed to the conference room, Hotch has got the profile prepared."

They all stood around the conference room, the members of the BAU up front, doling out the profile to the members of Chicago P.D.

"Our unsub is between the ages of 25 and 35, white, with a steady job. He likely keeps to himself, doesn't have family, and lives in a suburban neighborhood within these radiuses." Hotch pointed to the board.

Reid spoke up. "He's killing for a personal motive, most likely some sort of sexual pleasure in torturing his victims before death. Yet he gives them a quick and easy death, and he does not mutilate the bodies post-mortem. He expresses remorse for these acts."

"Each was tortured differently. One showed exhibits of rat bites, one was flogged, and so on. He knows how to work these victims to exhibit fear. He probably stalks them for days prior to kidnapping," Prentiss said.

"While he doesn't know these victims personally, he knows their lives inside and out. This is an obsession for him. Don't be surprised if we find him with boards or notebooks full of information on them. He has a type, and he sticks to it," Rossi added.

As all of this was said, Reid shut his eyes for a moment, and he was unable to get the image of the man at the meeting out of his head.

That night, at the hotel, Reid sat staring at the 6 month coin in his palm, legs crossed in front of him as he sat on the bed. Morgan glanced over at him. "Hey. Kid. You wanna tell me what's going on in that head of yours?"

Reid stared a little while longer, then looked over at Morgan, the pain in his eyes wounding the elder agent. "I'm struggling."

"With sobriety?"

Reid nodded, staring down at the coin again. "I'm so scared I'll mess this up, but lately… Lately, it's just been getting harder every day."

"That will happen. That's when you go to meetings, and you talk to someone about it."

"I try that. It's not working anymore."

Morgan sighed, then approached Reid, a hand dropping to Reid's shoulder. "You just need to take it one day at a time, kid. Just worry about making it through today. Don't worry about tomorrow, or the next day. Just make it through today. Can you do that?"

Reid nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I can."

Morgan smiled. "That's all you need to do, man."

Reid plastered on a weak smile, and looked down. "That's what they keep telling me." A brief pause. "Hey, I'm… I'm gonna go for a walk."

Morgan still got nervous when he heard that, but he had to trust the kid.

He had to work extremely hard not to doubt Reid when he watched him walk out the door and into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Alright folks, last update for the day, I'll see you all in a few days. Enjoy. :)**

CHAPTER 3

Reid stared at the vial in his hand. He had only been on the street about 15 minutes before he had found what he was looking for. He didn't use it, no way, he just needed to keep it on hand. For backup.

He shoved the vial in his pocket and continued on his walk, making sure to stay out a little longer so Morgan didn't get suspicious. He was enjoying the cool air, the breeze that swept through his hair as he walked, and he was almost starting to feel better. Maybe it was the liquid courage in his pocket, protecting him, but Reid was almost starting to feel safe.

That was when he saw him.

The man from the meeting was on a street corner a block ahead of him, just staring. Reid quickly doubled back, walking as briskly as he could back to the hotel.

He practically banged down the door as he entered, causing Morgan to jump up.

"What the hell, kid?"

Reid bustled in the door, yanking off his bag and setting it on the floor, then running back to the door to lock it. "There's someone… somebody is following me. I saw him at the meeting the other night and I just saw him now."

Morgan nodded, clenching his fists. "Okay, okay. Easy. Tell me about him."

Reid shook his head, trying to remember. "Ah, 5 foot 10, probably 165 pounds, white, longish brown hair, curly… I didn't see his eyes."

Morgan wrote this down. "Okay, alright. I'm getting this information to Hotch, you just relax, okay?"

Reid nodded, his eyes down. "Okay. Okay."

He stood, feeling slightly sick, and headed for the bathroom, locking it behind him and sinking to the floor, head in his hands. He hadn't felt this panicked since Tobias Hankel and Georgia. He fished around in his pocket, thin fingers clasping around the vial, and he squeezed it tight, for support. He wouldn't use it, he promised himself that. He just had to know it was there. When Morgan came back, he knocked on the bathroom door. "Kid, Hotch is here."

Reid quickly shoved the vial deeper into his pocket, glancing over his shoulder and pushing himself up, unlocking the door and heading out. "Yeah."

"Did you already give Morgan his details?" Hotch asked.

Reid nodded, hands up in defense. "I did, I just did. Hotch." Hotch looked up. "Hotch… I fit his victimology."

Morgan shrugged. "To a T."

Hotch sighed. "Reid, you'll be just fine. You're in our care. Nothing is going to happen to you."

Morgan shrugged again. "Besides, you don't fit his M.O. He would have needed to have been stalking you for like, a week, and we've only been here- what, two days?"

Hotch nodded. "You're perfectly safe, Reid. We'll keep an eye on you. That's a promise."

Reid nodded, his breath evening out. He couldn't imagine going through that again, the capture, the torture. All of it. Reid knew he wouldn't survive it. And even if he did, he would never be the same.

Hotch dropped a hand on Reid's shoulder. "Just get some sleep. We're meeting at 8 tomorrow." Reid just nodded, his eyes down. Hotch studied him a bit longer, than let it go, heading out, saying goodnight to Morgan as he did.

"You're gonna be okay, kid," Morgan reassured him. "I won't let anything happen to you."

The next day, at the office, the team sat around the table, minus Reid, who had excused himself to the bathroom about ten minutes prior.

Reid was struggling, Morgan knew it, and it sunk in further when Reid staggered in 20 minutes late after tossing and turning in bed all night. He had drunk three coffees already and the bags under his eyes were even more noticeable.

Morgan had started to get suspicious. He knew the kid was having trouble, and Morgan would be damned if he let Reid fall again. He cleared his throat, and pushed himself up, heading for the bathroom.

What he saw made his heart sink.

Reid was slumped against the wall of a bathroom stall, door swung open. His shirt sleeve was rolled up high and a needle lay on the ground next to him. His head rested against the wall and his eyes were half closed, jaw lulled open. His head kept nodding forward, and then would jolt back and hit the wall again as he tried to stay awake.

Morgan shut his eyes, swearing under his breath, before going to the kid, locking the stall behind him and sitting next to Reid, his knees up and arms thrown over them.

"Reid."

Reid jolted slightly in response, but remained somewhere far away, somewhere he didn't have to think, didn't have to feel, didn't have to worry. He was safe there.

Morgan dropped a hand on Reid's shoulder. "A year down the toilet, buddy. I'm sorry you felt you had to do this."

Reid moaned softly, his head nodding forward again. Morgan squeezed his shoulder, and in reflex, Reid slumped against Morgan. He tried to speak, but nothing came out but another soft moan. He soon slipped away again, free of all the pain.

Morgan had told the team Reid was sick, and Morgan brought him back to the hotel, managing to keep anyone from seeing him. Reid collapsed on the bed, curling up in his blissful euphoria, and mumbling himself to sleep. Morgan sat next to him until he woke about half an hour later, still mildly high.

Reid shifted, scrubbing his face over his hands, and breathing deeply. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Morgan leaning on the other bed, staring down at his feet.

Reid was at a loss for words, except these. "Morgan… Morgan, I'm sorry."

Morgan was quiet. "I know, kid."

"I tried so hard, but…"

"It's okay. It happened. We can't change that."

Reid nodded, looking down at his trembling hands. "I'm going to be fine. I just… I just needed it today."

"You won't need it again, Reid. I promise."

If only Morgan knew how wrong he was.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Reid walked through the streets of Chicago with uncertainty, hands shoved into his pockets. Since his fall, he had a hard time getting back up again. He managed to remain sober, but the struggle remained, too. The thing he needed most was to catch a meeting.

That night, he did, and he even spoke, and after the meeting, he stayed outside for a while with the other members: the people who identified with him, the people who, other than his team, and sometimes even more so… he felt safe with. He didn't even see the man again.

That is, until he was walking away to head back to the hotel, and he heard a sound behind him. He turned a shoulder to find a hard object flying towards him.

He only felt the blow for a second before he hit the ground.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Where's Spence?" JJ asked in the hotel lobby, where the group had gathered for an impromptu meeting that night.

Morgan sighed. "He's…"

"I think he's at a movie," Hotch offered, trying his best to keep the situation quiet.

"Why would he go to a movie if he was sick?" Prentiss questioned. Morgan glanced her way, then to Hotch. Hotch nodded once.

"Reid… Reid isn't sick. I mean, he is… but this is different." They all looked to him for the answer. "Reid used yesterday."

JJ's hand flew to her mouth, and Prentiss just shut her eyes in her disappointment, and mostly, sadness, for the young man. "After a year?" said JJ, and Prentiss looked over at her, reaching for her hand and squeezing it, her own sign of camaraderie.

"He's been struggling with this case. With the victimology. And I think, the pressure got to him," Morgan admitted, his eyes trained on the team. Rossi cleared his throat.

"I think we knew this was coming." The group looked down as Rossi said what they were all thinking.

"He's been struggling for a while now," Prentiss acknowledged.

But when he didn't come back hours later, the group racked their brains trying to figure it out. All signs pointed to the streets, where Reid would be able to shoot up and crawl within himself in a comfortable numbness, without interference. Without the people who cared about him most there to save him, from himself.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Reid woke with a splitting headache, and found himself cuffed to a wall. He groaned, feeling the warm wetness on his head that he knew was blood.

A shift in the dark distance told him he wasn't alone. "Hello? Hello?!" Reid slumped back again, shutting his eyes, with tears squeezing through and running down his cheeks. Not again. This couldn't be happening, not again. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

The figure stepped forward, still shrouded in darkness. His voice was eerily quiet, and calm, almost gentle, like a father here not to scold, but to care for an upset child. "I'm here to help. I know, you've been suffering."

Reid pulled on the cuffs again, then sat back, knowing it was useless. He saw a sharp glimmer of light, but it quickly faded, along with his hope. The figure stepped forward again, and into the light.

The man, the man who had been following him, and the object he held that caught the light just so. A syringe.

"No. No, please. Don't do this, you don't have to do this. I have… I have a year clean, I'm clean-"

"Had… a year clean, is what I hear. I know you want this again. Don't fight it, when it feels right." The man came closer, and Reid felt a lump in his throat as he finally got a good look at the man who had been watching him. He looked so much like Spencer.

"Please…" The man knelt by Reid, and with gentle motions carefully rolled up Reid's shirtsleeve and guiding the needle towards a vein. "At least… at least tell me your name."

The man stopped, and looked at Reid straight with big brown eyes that were stunningly similar to his own. "Don't you recognize me? My name is Spencer Reid." With that enigma left hanging in the air, the man gently slid the needle into the vein, drawing out blood and injecting the mixture in. The Dilaudid slammed into Spencer's brain, causing his head to fall back and connect sharply with the wall. It warmed his soul, it dulled all his pain, and it set him free. His eyes rolled back and his jaw lulled open, arms and legs going limp as his blood warmed up and darted through every vein, viciously pumping through him, telling him, in this moment, he was still alive.

He felt so good, but he hated it. He hated knowing this feeling was back for him and the beast had laid its hands on Reid once again. He was scared he wouldn't be able to shake it, and he wouldn't be able to go back to the way things were, and as he slumped against the wall and the drug took hold, he couldn't stop thinking about the man who looked just like him, the man called Spencer Reid.

The next morning, the team began searching. They quickly realized something had happened to Spencer and the first place they checked were known areas of drug use. They also checked the meeting hall.

"We can't really say if he was here or not."

"This is about his life, sir, we are already aware of his drug problem, we're aware he has attended here. We just need to know if you saw him last night," Prentiss pushed, quickly losing her patience.

The man shifted, uncomfortable, then finally gave in. "He left around 9:30. Half an hour after the meeting ended. He headed that way." He pointed. Prentiss glanced behind her.

"Does anything stick out in your memory? Did he talk to anyone, seem particularly engaged with anyone?" The man shook his head. "Did anyone seem engaged with him?" The man shook his head. "Did… did Spencer speak, last night?"

The man shifted uncomfortably again, and nodded. "Yeah."

"Is there anything you can tell me about what he said?"

"Listen, lady. I'm sorry you can't find your friend. But I've told you everything I can tell you. I'm sorry I can't be of more help." Prentiss nodded, eyeing the man suspiciously, then glanced the other direction again.

"You said he went that way?" The man nodded. "Okay. Great. Thank you."

She turned, heading back to the van, rapping on the window. Hotch lowered it. "He went this way," she said, pointing, and they began to trace him on foot.

As they walked, a sinking feeling hit Morgan. This didn't seem right. This wasn't like Reid. He was smart, he would do this the smart way, he wouldn't just head out into the streets of an unfamiliar area. Not with a killer who was tracking victims that looked… just like him. Morgan stopped.

"You guys." They all looked to Morgan. A wrench lay on the ground. It had a dark crimson stain on the edge of it. "Reid has been taken."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Spencer groaned into consciousness for the second time since his capture, this time in a different room. It was a living area, a lovely, decorated living area. It had a quaintness about it, something that softly whispered safety. It almost soothed Spencer for a moment, before he remembered what had happened to him.

He made quick movements as he tried to scramble up, but only had to sit back down upon realizing the restraints around his ankles, keeping him tightly held to the chair at the table. A quick rotation of his aching wrists told him he was no longer locked by those, but he still couldn't move. He stretched out his arms, eyes shifting back and forth as he tried to identify the place he was being held. Nothing stuck out. No windows. One door, directly behind him, locked from the outside. He faced forward again, squeezing his eyes shut as he remembered. The man, the one who looked like him, had brought him a healthy serving of his preferred poison and forced it into Reid's veins. Tears began to crawl down Spencer's cheeks as he remembered.

The door unlocked and swung open, causing Reid to jump. He shivered slightly as the cold air flew in, penetrating his skin and turning his bones to ice. He shivered again when the man stood in front of him, holding a covered plate.

"I brought you something." The man uncovered the plate, and inside sat a breakfast, made deliciously, all to Reid's exact, particular liking. Next to the food sat a syringe. "For you. This is what you like, isn't it?" Reid swallowed. It was, exactly what he liked, and he shivered again when he realized just how much this man knew about him.

Reid had decided he could not refer to this man as Spencer Reid, despite that being the title he gave. Spencer was not ready to give himself up completely, and that meant relinquishing his name. So he decided to call him the Man. That was all he could think of in his drugged-up state. He sat back in the chair and steadied his breath, staring down at the food. Despite his stomach growling in protest, he simply didn't have any desire to eat. He reached for the syringe, stopping, and looking up at the Man. He was quiet when he spoke. "Why are you doing this?"

The Man looked sincere when he spoke, and his face looked hurt, as though it was painful to see that Spencer was questioning his motives. "I just want to take care of you." Then, these chilling words. "You mean a lot to me." Reid swallowed, looking back down at the food.

"Why do I mean a lot to you?"

"Because we're the same person," he casually noted. Reid shut his eyes at this, suddenly feeling sick. He needed to make this disappear. He gripped the syringe tightly, uncapping it and placing it against his skin. He looked up once more, and the Man nodded to him. He pierced the skin and pushed the drug in, feeling it immediately rush to his brain. He dropped the thing, letting it clatter to the ground, and let his head fall back.

"Oh..." He squeezed his eyes shut, then relaxed them, and his mouth hung open as he breathed heavily in the heat of the moment.

In the heat of the moment, he couldn't even question the man and his odd answers. Though, when he was sober, he had plenty of questions. He didn't get the chance to ask them when he was high.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Reid pounded on the door, showing no signs of stopping, and screamed as he did. He was quickly losing his voice, and it kept cracking and breaking off... disappearing into silence. Reid wasn't sure how long it had been, he could guess around a week or two, and the addiction was slowly, but surely coming back for him. He sank down against the wall, crying into his knees as the withdrawals began to eat at him. He had gone for a day and a half without it, after being constantly drugged up by the Man, and his body was in the beginning stages of protests.

The Man unlocked the door and stopped when he saw Reid in tears. He rushed over to him, kneeling by him and using soft words to try to soothe the pain. "What is it, what do you need? What can I do?"

Reid's voice caught on a sob. He was filthy, tired, broken down, and getting closer and closer to his addiction every time the Man pumped him full of drugs. "I just want to go, please let me go."

The Man sighed, looking genuinely apologetic. "I'm sorry, Spencer, I really am. But I can't do that." He looked down for a moment, dropping a hand onto Reid's shoulder, and then looked up. An idea. He rifled around in his pocket for a small tin, and opened it up, laying it out and setting up a syringe, preparing the drug. Reid studied him, his voice weak as he protested.

"Don't... I don't want it. Please."

The Man looked up at Reid, and Reid was struck by the honesty in the Man's eyes. "It helps."

Reid squeezed his eyes shut upon remembering these words spoken to him by Tobias. A few tears squeezed through, and he choked on another sob as the Man drew the mixture into the syringe from the vial and pressed it against Reid's skin. "Please..." Reid muttered.

"Please do it?" the Man asked, sharp point still poised over Reid's skin, which was quickly becoming littered with the scars once again. Reid hesitated, then nodded once, the tears unable to be controlled as they streamed down his cheeks. The Man smiled softly. "See? I told you it would help." He pushed the needle in and discharged the drug into Reid's vein. Reid's head fell back, and he immediately sighed into the drug. It took hold of him and provided him an escape from this horror. It gave him just what he needed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So Reid is a part of his victimology."

"For good reason, perhaps his central reason. Have we considered that maybe this was all a ploy to get to Reid?" Prentiss responded to JJ.

"It could be. Then we just have to figure out who would want Reid," JJ said. Hotch looked up at this.

"Look for people from this area and from Vegas that were rejected from the FBI around the same time Reid got in. We know there are quite a few people who are still upset about Reid's employment, especially since he is so far outside of the basic employment parameters. That could be source of rage for our unsub."

Gideon nodded. "That's good stuff. The victims prior to Reid may have just been practice, a tactic to get Reid out here so he could have the real thing."

"That means he's known a lot about Reid long before we even came out here. That's probably why he's such an effective stalker, he's got lots of practice doing the same thing to Spence," JJ said.

"Was this all based around Reid?" Prentiss asked, looking up, horrified.

Hotch shrugged. "Let's find Reid first, then we'll find our answers."

Meanwhile, Reid was getting morsels of freedom, served up bit by bit. The Man soon let him roam around the basement, then the whole house. He was allowed to go where he pleased, but this merciful freedom was all a fake... Reid wasn't capable of roaming. He was too high.

The Man didn't really require much of Reid anymore. He didn't force the drug upon Reid... Reid had begun to beg. He didn't have to hush him, keep him quiet... Reid was too busy singing softly to himself, high. He was becoming perfectly obedient and had begun the sad process of abandoning himself and succumbing to the drug, once again.

The Man smiled softly whenever he saw Spencer. He admired him, his face, his personality... or what was left of it as the drug began to take hold. Also, though, he was sad for him. The young man was so unhappy... and the Man did everything he could to make Reid comfortable. Gave him his favorite foods, decorated the house in a way Reid might like, kept him in the drugs whenever he needed them. He wished he could let Spencer go, but he couldn't. Not yet. Spencer needed to see, see why this was happening, and that hadn't happened yet.

"Spencer? Spencer!" The Man worried when Spencer didn't respond right away. He had left to pick up some things, and realized on his way home that he had forgotten to give Spencer a dose the day before. He swung open the door to the bedroom and dropped the groceries at what he saw.

Spencer was in a pile around the toilet, shivering miserably and struggling to pull himself up to be sick. "Oh, no... Oh, no, no..." The Man quickly ran to another room, returning with a syringe and a vial and filling it up. Reid moaned.

"You left." Reid squeezed his eyes shut at how desperate he sounded. He didn't need this Man, he didn't need him for anything. Yet here he was, depending on this Man for his drugs, nourishment... basic care-taking that he could no longer provide for himself.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," the Man said, helping Reid sit up and quickly tying off his arm, searching for a vein and sliding the needle in. "This will... this will make it better." After he administered the drug to Spencer, the Man sat back, burying his face in his hands and crying. "I hurt you. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. It won't happen again, I swear."

Reid couldn't respond. His head was back, he was slowly slumping towards the ground, and he was soaring. The drug settled over him like a soft, wet blanket, making his shoulders heavy and providing a cool, soothing effect in his throat. He sighed, but other than that small indication of at least semi-consciousness, made no noise.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"I've found 235 people who fit the criteria of being rejected when Reid was hired. Eliminate the girls, which I think is safe to say we can do, and we get 174. Eliminate the ones who went on to similar law enforcement, and we're down to 104," Garcia chirped over the phone.

Morgan cringed. "We need to narrow that down further. What can we do, guys? What can we rule out?"

"Eliminate people who have never lived here. If they were just in Vegas, or moved elsewhere, this wouldn't be relevant," Prentiss tried.

"Ooh, that's good. That gets us down to 28," Garcia said, her smile audible through the crackly phone.

"Alright, now start comparing those to the geographic profile Reid gave us before he was taken," Hotch said. "We'll reconvene in an hour." The team broke up, and began their work.

XXXXXXXXXXX

The Man had begun to take Reid out. He was always with him, but they would go to the park, they would go grocery shopping, they would go to the library, to give Reid intellectual stimulation. The Man always looked on in awe as Reid would pore through books with speed. Perhaps not his usual speed, so constantly under the influence of drugs, but still fast; far faster than most. It was inspiring. The Man only wished he could be half the man Reid was, even in his state of sickened sadness.

One day, they were leaving the library, when Reid saw them. His team, quite a few feet away, talking to the manager of the library outside. Something in Reid stirred, but as soon as Morgan glanced his way, for some odd reason, he ducked. "They're here," he muttered, suddenly feeling his whole body begin to shake in a panic. The Man grabbed his hand and pulled him down behind a statue, and they kneeled together, staring at the ground and hoping Morgan hadn't seen.

Why did Reid do that? He asked himself this, and squeezed his eyes shut as he racked his brain, figuring out what it was inside of him that kept him from calling out to the team, from calling out for help. Was he happy? Of course he wasn't happy. Who could be happy in the situation he was in? No one.

Right?

He went back to panicking, then relaxed when he saw them walk away. The Man smiled at him. "Why did you do that?"

Reid shook his head, still unsure. Then, as he glanced down at his arms, and the scars that covered them, he shivered. "They can't see me like this." A pause. "I'm sick."

The Man sighed, glancing down at Reid's arms, and frowned. "This was all your choice. This was always your choice."

Reid continued to stare at his arms, when the realization began to hit him. He wasn't this man's captive... he was a captive of his own mind. "It was my choice."

"You know why that is, right? You know who I am now? Why I'm doing this?"

Reid nodded, slowly. It took him a moment to gather the strength to speak the words.

"I do." He took in a deep breath. "You're..."

TO BE CONTINUED.

**Please review, if you feel so inclined. It's like Halloween candy to me. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

"Anyone here who may have known Reid?"

"Four of them went to CalTech," responded Garcia to Morgan. "Sending you those names now."

"Thanks, Babygirl," Morgan said, looking back over the files. Hotch stepped in.

"Where are we on narrowing these down?"

"Down to four. I'm giving these to Prentiss to see if we can find any connection in victimology."

Hotch nodded. "Report back to me when you're done."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Reid swallowed. "I do. You're... me."

The Man nodded, slowly, so as not to scare Reid. "It's always been you."

Reid squeezed his eyes shut. "Am I crazy?"

The Man looked on, sad. "Only if you see it that way."

"Why would my mind do this to me?"

"You needed to use. You needed this... escape, for a while, and I guess you thought... if it was out of your control... It was somehow justified."

"What about the murders?"

"They're real. Whoever it is... he's still at large. The team are working very hard. They'll catch him."

"Without me?"

"You need time. You need some time to work out these... issues. You're of no help to them right now. I mean, look at yourself. You're talking to me."

Reid nodded, then sank down against the wall, feeling sick. "I need... I need the drugs."

The man sprang into action, grabbing the gear from a drawer and bringing it over, preparing it and handing it to Spencer. He reached for it with trembling hands and brought the needle to skin, taking a deep breath. He needed to make the Man disappear. He pushed the needle in and pulled away the panic and fear. He made it all go away. He squeezed his eyes shut, only for a moment, and then when he opened them... the Man was gone.

He blinked, once, twice, and sighed in relief. The high took him over, and he fell back against the wall, sinking down and throwing his head against his knees as he breathed deeply. The shaking in his hands subsided, his body temperature fell back to normal, and the tightness in his chest was gone.

He drifted away.

When he woke up, the Man still wasn't there. He sighed in relief. Maybe it was all a nightmare.

"Hey." Reid jumped, turning around, and the Man stood behind him, arms crossed. "You didn't think you were rid of me, did you?"

Reid sighed. "I had hoped."

The Man shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere. Not for a long time... not until you... figure things out."

Spencer took a shaky breath and stood. "Why now. Why is this happening now?"

"You couldn't keep pretending, Spencer. You tried to stamp me out, your whole life. You tried to be everything, anything and everything, but your mother. You were perfect. Too perfect." He paused, letting these words hang in the air. "I had to show up sometime."

"This case..."

"It reminded you of who you are. Those men, the ones that all look like you. They have flaws, they have... demons. Seeing this... it let your demons free."

"I couldn't keep living in ignorance."

"It was blissful oblivion, I know. But you couldn't do it forever."

Reid nodded. "Of course not. That would be..." He sighed, glancing down at the scars on his arms. "...Too good to be true."

"Unrealistic."

He looked up, his face pained. "So what now?"

The Man shrugged. "You keep working."

"Till you go away?"

"Is that a realistic goal?"

Reid shut his eyes. "...Until I learn how to manage you."

"I'm a part of you, Reid. You'll figure it out." The Man paused. "I don't mean you any harm. But I do have a job to do. I won't let you get in the way of that job."

Reid didn't want to ask, he already knew. "Your job is to destroy me. The same way you did to my mother."

"I just need to make you see."

"See what?"

"What I had to make her see. You'll... you'll figure it out, Spencer. One of these days."

"Can I go back to my team?" Reid knew this was wishful thinking.

"You can't go back like this. You're too fragile. They'll see right through you. They'll throw us in an institution. Just like your mother."

"Just like I did to my mother."

"You did what you did because you cared about her."

"I still do."

"They care about you. But you don't need that. Not yet."

Reid nodded again. "Okay. Okay."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The team sat at the P.D., poring over the files. Morgan paced the room, hands locked behind his head, grimacing. "Where are you, Reid. Where the hell are you," he asked himself, mumbling. Prentiss looked over at him.

"Think he's still using?"

Morgan stopped, and sighed. "I know he's still using."

Just then, Garcia bustled in, her eyes wide. "You guys, someone spotted Reid."

Morgan immediately brought his hands down, and Prentiss covered her mouth with a hand. "Where the hell was he?"

"Someone at the library saw him. He looked like he was talking to someone, but no one was there."

"Think he was high?" Prentiss asked.

"There's a good chance," Morgan responded, still looking down at his feet as he thought through this.

"Let's station around the library, look at cameras, see if we can catch him with the man who took him. He's been careful this far, he won't let Reid out of his sight. If Reid's there, our unsub was there."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"They're grasping at straws," Reid slurred, high out of his mind, and pacing... stumbling the length of the living room. The Man sat in a plush lounge chair in the center of the room, his eyes following Reid back and forth, back and forth.

"What are you talking about?"

Reid stopped, leaning down and pressing his hands on his knees. "They won't catch the unsub they're looking for because they're looking for the one who took me. And he doesn't exist. They won't catch this guy as long as they're looking for me. I have to let them know I'm safe."

The Man shook his head slowly, his tone reprimanding, as though to convince a small child he's making the wrong decision. "You know you can't do that, Spencer. Not now. It's too risky."

"I can't let them keep looking for me. I can send them a note."

"You know you can't do that."

Reid looked over at the man, and in his rage, spat these words. "You can't tell me what to do. You can't control anything I do, you're in my head."

"But I can make you suffer. You know that better than anyone."

Reid rifled through the desk, retrieving a pen and paper and plopping into the seat to scribble his note. The Man crouched next to him, taunting him.

"They'll find you, like this. They'll find you dead and cold, after administering a fatal dose of that fucking drug in an attempt to get rid of me. You should know better than that, you can't get rid of me, but fuck it all if Spencer Reid won't die trying. Is that what you want? To leave your mother alone? To leave them all alone? Do you want to die knowing that you died listening to me? That you died a man half-sane, that you died like this? Living like this? They'll find you, and it will be too late. You'll already be gone."

Reid grimaced, gripping the pen harder and scribbling faster.

"Even worse, what if they find you alive? Stoned out of your mind, pacing back and forth in here talking to a man that doesn't even exist? They'll lock you away. They won't respect you anymore, how could they? Spencer Reid has lost his mind, that genius mind that he was so proud of. The only thing he had going for him, and now it's GONE. What do you have to live for anyway, Spencer? Your mom? You abandoned her, you left her alone. And they'll do the same to you. They'll lock you up just like you did to her. 'For your own good'. Fuck that, they're going to abandon you just the same. You think they deserve to know you're here, that you're living like this? They wouldn't understand. No one understands, Spencer. No one except me."

Reid tore the page from the pad and stomped outside, the Man following him out, spouting his hurtful words the whole way as Reid shoved the letter in the mailbox and headed back inside.

"You aren't worth ANYTHING, Spencer Reid. Not anymore. Not after this. Not after me. You're ruined. You're broken. And nothing is going to fix you. Not the team, not yourself, not even those fucking drugs you're so dependent on."

Reid slammed the door, locking it behind him, and sinking to the floor, leaning against the door and burying his face in his knees. "Shut up!" he said. "Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"

"You know you can't get rid of me that easy."

Reid pulled himself to his feet, storming to the bathroom, grabbing a syringe and a vial with shaking hands from the drawer and assembling them, trembling as he did. He filled the syringe all the way, not even bothering to check how much he was going to inject. He didn't even bother to tie off, just pushing the needle into his skin and sending in the drug.

"You think THAT'LL work? How stupid do you think I am? I'm in your HEAD, Spencer, I've been there a lot longer than the drugs."

The drug shot through Spencer, and he crumpled to the floor, head spinning as he stared up at the ceiling, tears streaming from his eyes and down the sides of his face. He shifted to his side, curling up as he sobbed and the drug took hold.

"You're pathetic. You can't deal with me, with anything, so you just sit in here and shoot up and pray it all goes away. You're WEAK."

The words rang through Spencer's head, reminding him of the very thing he had tried to convince his mother, all those years ago, before the overwhelming amount of Dilaudid rushed his system and took over. And before he passed out completely, those words rang in his ears.

You're weak.

You're weak.

You're weak.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hi lovelies. Just a warning, this is a graphic chapter. It has elements of self-harm and hints of suicidal tendencies, so please tread carefully if need be. Love to all.**

CHAPTER 7

Reid didn't want to be crazy. That was the last thing he wanted, to be just like his mother, and not the upstanding young genius he raised himself to be. But here he was, pacing the tiny, abandoned home where he stayed, locked inside with the Man, the monster who said he was a part of Spencer, which Spencer still didn't quite believe. He stayed inside the house with that Man and shot up his drugs and got lost inside himself and pretended none of it was real. Sooner came rather than later, and he finally found himself only leaving the house to buy more drugs. He couldn't be bothered with much of anything else. He just sat in the bedroom, shivering from the lack of heat, and pulled the belt tight around his arm with his teeth. He popped the cap off the needle, drew up the liquid, and pushed the thing under his skin, discharging the drug and leaning his head back against the wall as the high took over. He melted slightly, his skin began to tingle, and he arched his back into the feeling, moaning softly.

It felt so good, and when he was this high, the Man usually went away for a while.

At the P.D., Morgan read over the scribbled note with shaking hands. "Morgan, JJ, Prentiss, Garcia, Rossi, and Hotch, I just needed to let you know that I'm fine. I left on my own, I just needed some time. Please don't come looking for me. I'm safe. I promise. This means the man you're looking for is still at large, and he has nothing to do with me. I was not taken by anyone. This is an unrelated case. Please catch him, for me. I'll see you all soon, I promise. -Spencer."

He finished reading aloud and dropped it, letting the thin paper drift to the table's surface. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. JJ stood with her hands over her mouth, and Hotch just shook his head.

"Do you think he's still using?" Prentiss asked.

"I know he's still using," said Morgan, sighing first. "We have to stop this. We have to find him."

Hotch sighed. "If he was struggling, this kind of leave could have been approved by the Bureau. He was not given permission for such a leave. As such, he's going to end up out of a job if he doesn't come back soon. Still, though, we do have evidence that he left voluntarily. We can't go looking for him if he doesn't want to be found."

JJ glanced up. "There has to be something we can do."

Hotch shook his head. "We focus on the case. We just have to hope Reid comes back soon enough. I can only cover for him for so long."

"Until then, Hotch is right... we focus on the case. Back to the drawing board," Rossi concluded.

At the house, Reid was pacing back and forth again, and the man was, of course, sitting in his plush armchair, watching Reid. Reid cried softly, occasionally reaching up to wipe the tears.

"I miss my friends."

"They miss you. But they wouldn't understand you. Not anymore."

"Yes, they would. They would understand-"

"That you're talking to someone who isn't here?"

"That... my mental health is more important than my job, and it's..."

"Deteriorated."

"Deteriorating." He sighed. "Will I ever get it back?"

"People like me don't just leave, Spencer. I'm not going away any time soon."

"Will I ever be able to live normally again?"

"I don't know, Spencer."

Reid squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't be alone in here anymore."

"You're not alone."

Reid knew though, that he was. That he was alone in an empty house, shooting up drugs and talking to an invisible friend. One that often whispered to him that he was worthless, that he was broken, that he should kill himself. That one day there would be more voices, just like him, all crowding around him, invading his brain and holding him hostage inside his own mind. Spencer was quickly realizing he couldn't be free. He would never be free.

And his solution was the drug. He knew, it would kill him, and it wouldn't do anything to benefit his deteriorating mental health, but it made the Man go away for a little while. For a few days, he tried to go without, but he couldn't handle it, the withdrawals: the headaches, the shakiness, the vomiting... all of it built up and before he knew what he was doing, he was sitting back on the bed, drawing the liquid into a syringe again and forcing it into his blood. He couldn't escape the pain, no matter what he did.

The Man kept reminding him off that. He would leave things around the houses. A double-edged razor here, a noose there. Little, gentle reminders that there was a way out. It just may not have been the answer Spencer was looking for. Though, day by day, they began to grow a little more tolerable, maybe even appealing. One day, as Reid was sitting in the lounge, preparing his drugs and listen to the Man chatter on about what a worthless whore Reid's mother was, his tired gaze moved towards the noose, settling on it. He visibly relaxed, his insides melting as he thought of the sweet release. He licked his lips. The man followed his gaze and smiled. "Considering it already? Wow, I had no idea you were so easy to manipulate, Spencer. I thought you were smarter than that? Oh, well, I guess not anymore, you're not."

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut at this and took in a deep breath. After a moment of holding that breath in, he finally stood, injecting the liquid, stumbling slightly, then heading for the door. He swung it open and glanced around, eyes zeroing in on a pay-phone a few feet away, standing alone on the corner. He went to it, dialing the number with hands shaking. It rang, once... twice...then: "Yeah, it's Morgan."

Reid couldn't help but cry as he heard Morgan's voice, it was the first voice he had heard in weeks other than his own and the Man's, and it was just what he needed. He worried though, this high was intense, he was scared he wouldn't be able to stay standing through the phone call. He briefly laughed through his tears.

"Morgan, it's... it's Spencer."

"Jesus Christ, Reid, where the hell are you?" The team looked up at hearing this, all immediately panicked.

Reid tried to answer, but the Man kept talking over his thoughts. "I brought you something," said the Man. He held the noose. "I don't think it will be so bad if they find you already dead. You know they can't find you living, of course, but I don't think it would be good for them to see you carry it out. And especially not so violently. A razor blade, eating a bullet... no, this is the best option." He carefully began to slide it over Spencer's head as Spencer talked to Morgan. Spencer kept swatting him away, but before he knew it, the noose was around his neck. Not connected to anything of course, but still quite frightening.

"I need help, Morgan," Reid cried into the phone, squeezing it tight as his knees shook and knocked together and he felt close to collapse.

"What's going on, buddy, what can I do?"

Reid sobbed harder as the Man begin to tighten the noose around his neck, whispering softly into his ear: "Shhh, it's okay. Hang up the phone. It'll be okay."

"I need help. I need... I can't do this anymore. I don't want to go, but I think I have to." His voice was getting more and more slurred.

"What do you mean, go, kid. You're not talking about something serious here, are you? You can't do that to us, kid. You can't do that to your mom." Morgan's voice shook and the team all stood around him, frightened.

"I don't have a choice anymore. It's the only option..." He trailed off and coughed as the noose tightened. He began to get light-headed; he wasn't even hanging but the noose was so tight...

He dropped the phone, letting it swing. He could barely hear Morgan shouting. "Reid! REID! Come back, man, don't do this! Fuck-"

And the line went dead.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

At the office, the team was losing their minds.

"Garcia, do you have a location on that pay-phone yet?" Morgan barked into the phone.

"Yes, yes, my love. West corner of Hadley and Thurman."

"And what's around there?"

"An abandoned home on the West corner as well, known to be used as a drug den. It's boarded up but vagrants still get in."

"That's where he is," Hotch noted, pulling on his jacket. Morgan began jogging out to the car, ushering everyone in.

"Go, go, go, go, go!"

They screeched out of the lot, and began to drive.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Reid had stumbled inside, locking the door behind him, and sinking to his knees in the bedroom. He didn't want to die. But he didn't want to live even more. He pulled the noose off as the Man watched him from the doorway and went to the bathroom, climbing into the empty bath fully clothed and preparing a needle as he turned on the water and let the bath begin to fill. He sighed as he pushed a little more than a full dose in, and let it take him away. Take him away from this hell-hole, take him away from the Man. Take him away from his insanity, his addiction, his thoughts of suicide. Take him away from all the hurt, and the pain, and the regret, and the shame. The drugs always worked for a little while.

Then, a reeling outside. A siren. He couldn't lift his head, he was far too high... in fact, he tried to lift his head, he really wanted to, but he felt so heavy, paralyzed. Why couldn't he move? What was wrong?

Then, the Man was standing above him. He held out the razor blade, and suddenly Reid could move again. He carefully took the thing from the Man's hand and held it over his wrist. The Man nodded. He carefully, so carefully, touched the thing to his skin, feeling how even a light touch caused a spot of red to bubble up from his skin. He pulled it over his scarred skin, covered in tracks, and watched the blood rise. It felt so good. His head tilted back as the high caused the blade to feel like a mere tingle over his skin, a butterfly kiss. He didn't feel the pain.

The team pulled up in front of the house, seeing the phone still off the hook and hanging. Morgan swallowed. He ran to the door, shook it, then kicked it in. He stopped in his tracks at the first thing he saw. The noose, in a pile on the floor. He swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut, and JJ gasped behind him. "It's not cut, it's still intact. So unless someone else pulled him down and took it off of him, he didn't do this."

JJ nodded, trying to keep her composure.

Then, Morgan heard it. A soft moan, coming from the back of the house. Morgan stopped in front of the bathroom door, told the team to hang back, and knocked. No response. In fact, it got quieter. He carefully pushed the door open, and nearly vomited at the sight in front of him.

Reid, fully clothed, soaking in crimson bathwater. One arm thrown over the side of the bathtub, covered in scars from needles and freshly printed cuts on his wrist. It took only a second of analysis on Morgan's part to realize the cuts were superficial, he wouldn't need more than a bandaid, but damn it all if this didn't terrify Morgan half to death. He stepped forward and winced when he heard glass crunch under his shoe. A vial, half full, now crushed and spilling, the needle next to it.

He looked to Reid. Reid was barely conscious, mumbling and head nodding forward. "Don't send me away," he said. "Please don't send me away. He made me do it."

"Who made you do it, Spencer?"

Reid flailed his arm in the direction directly behind Morgan. He glanced over his shoulder, but nothing was there. Reid had begun mumbling again in his stoned daze, eyes barely open.

"Stop it. S- stop it. Leave them alone. Not them. You can't hurt them. Just go AWAY!" Reid had begun to shout, he was awake now, flailing and thrashing and lashing out at some invisible offender directly behind Morgan. Morgan tried to hold him down.

"Reid. Reid."

"Go AWAY. I told you... they're here. I told you... it would work, now go AWAY. They're... they're here."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Don't be stupid, Spencer. I didn't make you do it. But now that they're here, I can make you do something to them."

"Stop it. S- stop it. Leave them alone. Not them. You can't hurt them. Just go AWAY!"

"I'm not going anywhere. Your little stunt out there didn't do much, did it. Other than scare the hell out of your poor teammates."

"Go AWAY! I told you... they're here. I told you... it would work, now go AWAY. They're... they're here."

"You think just because they're here I'm suddenly going to disappear? That's not how it works, Spencer. I'm not going to go away. I'm going to MULTIPLY. Soon, there will be so many just like me that you won't even REMEMBER your team, there will be too many people in your head, Spencer. Just like your mom. She can hardly remember your name. Want to know why? Because she has to deal with Walter and Ryder and Samantha and Harold and Ingrid and Vivien and so many more people in her fucked-up mind that she just doesn't have any time to remember YOU."

Reid panted, then began to cry as Morgan pulled him out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his bleeding wrist and reassuring him, softly, despite Reid's continued cries to whoever he was talking to.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Morgan sat Reid against the wall, ripping off a piece of his undershirt and tying it around Reid's wrist. Reid continued to slur at his invisible offender. Prentiss knocked on the door from the hallway and it made Reid jump. Morgan jumped up, and went to the door, opening it a crack.

"Who's he talking to?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I don't know."

"Is he just high?"

"No... no, there's... there's someone in here with him, he's having a full-blown conversation."

"What are you saying, Morgan?"

Morgan took a deep breath. "I'm saying... I think Reid has lost his mind."


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Morgan sat alone with Reid in the bathroom until the drug wore off. The team stayed outside, sitting in the living room of the home and staring around at its shambles. The drug paraphernalia strewn about, the messy home. The shattered plates, the turned over furniture. No man half-sane could have lived in such squalor. But somehow, throughout it all, Reid had.

Morgan had an arm thrown over Reid's shoulder, who had let his head fall to rest on Morgan's own. He breathed heavily, mumbled softly, occasionally directed at the invisible offender who had clearly taken over Reid's mind. Morgan watched as the bleed seeped through the wrapping in his wrist, and shut his eyes at the thought. The bleeding stopped, the seeping stopped, but the scars would always be there. Forever. Eventually, Reid fell asleep, and Morgan just sat there, staring around the bathroom: the crimson filled tub, the drugs and needle on the floor, the bloodied razor-blade. He felt sick.

An hour later, when Reid woke up, and the team still sat outside, Reid found himself rested against Morgan, who had him wrapped up tight. He began to cry. "No, no. You can't be here..."

Morgan's heart broke hearing those words. Maybe, if Reid hadn't been high, he never would have called them; and if that had been the case, he might not still be alive now. Morgan's stomach turned, just thinking about that. "Hey, kid, you're okay."

Reid almost believed him, just for a second, when the Man appeared in front of him. "You're not okay, Spencer. You know you're not. Just tell him. Tell him the truth."

Reid cried harder. "I can't... I can't."

Morgan searched Reid's eyes, his voice soft, cautious. "You can't, what, buddy. Who are you talking to?"

The Man laughed. "Just tell him, Spencer. Tell him the cold, hard, truth. That you've lost your mind and you're never getting it back." Reid's voice caught on a sob.

"Nothing. Nothing, there's no one there. There's no one here."

"Are you kidding me? Just cause he can't hear me, doesn't mean I'm not real!" The Man's voice boomed as he laughed. Reid covered his ears with his hands.

"Stop it, stop it!"

Morgan shut his eyes for a brief moment, then turned back to Reid. "Spencer, man, stay with me. It's just you and me, okay? Whoever you think you're talking to, you have to know it's all in your mind. I know he's loud, and I know he's scaring you. But you just need to listen to me, for a second, okay? Can you do that?" Spencer thought for a moment, then nodded. "Why did you run, kid?"

Reid looked down, threading his fingers together. "I'm a man in a mental break. I didn't need you to see that."

"Were you hearing the voice before you left?" Reid shook his head. "So why did you really go?"

Reid sobbed once, then tried to compose himself. "I needed to use."

"So you left to use. Okay. What brought you here?"

"I don't... I don't know. I just woke up here." He remembered the Man hitting him over the head with something hard, he vaguely remembered being dragged, and he remembered waking up chained to a wall. Then... he realized the truth: he was just high. Everything that happened... he did to himself. "I came when I was high."

"You been sober at all since this?"

Reid tried to swallow another sob as the shame shot through him, deep into his guts. His face contorted in pain as he tried not to cry. "No... no..."

"Been using more than you used to?"

Reid nodded. "It makes him go away."

"The Man who talks to you." Reid nodded again. Morgan shut his eyes for another moment, glancing towards the door, wishing he had back-up. But he knew, right now, Reid did not need to be overwhelmed. Baby steps. "We can fix this, Spencer-"

The Man interrupted Morgan. "He thinks he can FIX you? He doesn't even KNOW you. I know you, Spencer. And I know nothing is going to fix something as broken as you."

Reid squeezed his eyes shut as he heard this, then looked up at the Man, focusing in on him, narrowing his eyes in hate. Morgan watched this, saw him focus on the nothingness in front of him. He followed Reid's gaze, settling on the empty space.

"He's right there?" Morgan asked. Reid nodded, still staring. "What's he saying to you?"

"He says I can't be fixed. I'm broken."

"He's lying to you, okay, kid? He's lying, there's help for this, you know better than anyone."

Reid shook his head. "No... no... I don't want help. They'll send me away, please don't send me away."

But Reid knew, the only way to even attempt to fix this was to lock him up, pump him full of tranquilizers and anti-psychotics, and separate him from the real world. He just wanted to be a part of the real world.

"No one is sending anyone away. You're safe, Reid. We'll keep you safe. We love you, okay, man? This doesn't change anything."

Reid nodded, biting his lip, then sobbing once again. "Make him go away."

"I'll do my best, okay, kid?"

Reid nodded again, glancing down at the syringe. "Can you... excuse me for a moment?" Morgan studied him, confused. "I just need a minute alone."

"I'm sorry, kid, but you slit your wrist open. I can't leave you alone right now."

Reid suddenly burst. "I'm not crazy, okay?! I can handle a minute on my own!" The sad irony of this was not lost on Morgan. He stood, taking the syringe and the razor, and studying Reid on the floor.

"Five minutes, okay, kid? Five minutes, and I'm coming back in here."

Reid nodded, staring at the floor. Morgan left, and shut the door, staring at the Reid as he did. But the moment Morgan was gone, Reid was scrambling to his feet, searching the bathroom for what he so desperately needed. The Man followed him, watching what Reid did.

"Looking for more drugs, Spencer?" He said this as Reid tore the place apart, trying to remember where he hid a back-up. "More drugs so you can just drown me out for a little while? You're pathetic. You can't handle ANYTHING, so you just sit in here and shoot up and forget?"

Reid sobbed once, muttering and tugging at his hair. "Stop it, stop it..."

He yanked open the bottom drawer and found what he needed, taped to the backside of the drawer. He uncapped the syringe and pulled the liquid from the vial, settling on the closed toilet and pushing the needle under his skin, emptying the syringe into his arm. He sighed, moaned, let his head fall back. "Go away... go away..."

"You're not anything more than a weakling. A pathetic, useless, half-baked drug addict. Where's your precious mind now, Spencer? Locked away somewhere inside? Nope. No way. That's where I was. Locked up in your head and boom, now I'm here. But now you're filling your head up with this drug and there's nowhere for me to go, now. You can't lock me up anymore. I'm free at last and I'm not going anywhere, Spencer. I'm gonna keep living and breathing and talking and..."

The Man's voice faded away as the drug took hold and Spencer sunk a bit where he sat, another soft moan coaxed from his lips. His eyes drifted shut and his arms went limp, hanging down at his sides as the euphoria took control and ripped away all the insanity.

Morgan knocked once, then entered, and sighed upon seeing Reid stoned, again. He dragged him out of the bathroom and into the living room, where the rest of the team helped him get Reid into the car. They boarded up the door behind them, driving away, Reid mumbling softly the whole time. He felt at peace, and the Man had been quieted, for the time being. It was the sweet relief he so desperately needed, the drifting away. Prentiss sat next to him, holding his hand the whole way.

Back at the hotel, they sat Reid on the bed, leaned him against the wall, where he rode out the remainder of his high. When he woke up, the team were stationed around him, concern plaguing their faces. He cried again. "Please don't send me away," were his first words. Morgan shook his head.

"Stop saying that, buddy. No one's going anywhere yet, just work with us here, okay?" Reid nodded, sniffling. "First things first: You need to stop using. You will never get better if you don't stop using."

Reid's voice caught on a sob. "It makes him go away."

"I know, buddy. I know."

"I just need to make him go away."

"I know. I'm sorry. But these drugs are not helping you. They are not helping your mental sate. We can get you into a program to help with that. Do you want to stop using?"

Reid shook his head. "It's the only thing that makes him go away, Morgan!"

Morgan squeezed his eyes shut. He knew they were never going to get anywhere if Reid didn't want the help they were offering him. "Before we do that, then, we need to do a psych eval. We need to talk to a doctor."

"I am a doctor-"

"A doctor who specializes in these kinds of things. Someone who can help you out. We can get you some medicine and see a doctor-"

"I don't want medicine."

"Would you take the medicine if you stopped taking the drugs?"

Reid took a moment. "Yes."

"That's what I'm saying, buddy. We need to get you off the drugs first."

"I can't do this alone."

Morgan smiled. "Bud. You're not alone."

But Reid knew that already. Especially since, at that exact moment, the Man appeared in front of him, and smiled. "Yeah, Spencer. Don't you know that? You're not alone."

Reid swallowed, staring fearfully ahead of him. Morgan saw this, and shut his eyes, as the rest of the team looked on in confusion. "He's back," Reid said, quietly.

The rest of the team swallowed, too.

"What's he saying, bud?"

Reid sat for a moment, listening, then shut his eyes. "He's saying... he wants me to get rid of you."

Morgan watched ahead of Reid, and looked at the empty space directly in front of him, before he spoke. "Well, Spencer. You can tell him, that he's not going to get rid of us that easy."

Spencer was quiet for a minute, then spoke rather suddenly, quietly, as though afraid of his own voice. "Please don't let me hurt you."

Prentiss and JJ shut their eyes at this, and Hotch had to look away. Rossi, however, looked at Reid dead-on.

"Reid. We need to get you to a hospital."

Reid took another moment, looking down, then nodded, tears welling up in his eyes again.

"Okay. Okay. Just don't let me hurt you."

"Kid, you'll be fine. Just come with us to a hospital. Right now. Please," Morgan said, his voice shaking slightly at the thought of Reid hurting anyone.

Reid nodded, and his voice broke off, the sobs returning. "Save me. Please. Save me," he said, his voice shaking as the tears took over once again.

Morgan couldn't help the tear the streamed down his own cheek. "We will, buddy. I promise, we will."


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Reid sat in the back of the van, shivering, crying softly, and occasionally mumbling at the Man that had taken over his mind. Morgan drove in silence, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in anger; anger at the Man, the voice, that had so rudely interrupted Reid's sanity. JJ sat in the back with Reid, holding his hand as he rested his head against her shoulder, exhausted by all of this. All of the arguing with himself, the war inside, the drugs... true, utter exhaustion.

It had all sent him spiraling down.

Then, suddenly, he would lash out. Kick and scream, beg and plead, shout and swing wildly out at JJ next to him. Morgan glanced over his shoulder, then gripped the steering wheel tighter as JJ held Reid's hands tight to keep him from harming her.

"Don't... Don't take me! Stop touching me, let me go! I just want to go. Let me out of here, JJ, you can't keep me. Stop it. STOP IT."

JJ cried softly as she squeezed his hands, leaning her head against the window, and he finally settled, curling up next to her and crying again. "I'm not worth this..." he muttered. Morgan's head whipped around.

"You shut up. I know that's him, the guy in your head, saying that, and I just want to tell you to tell him to shut his mouth. He doesn't know what he's talking about, Reid. We would do anything, and I mean ANYTHING, to keep you safe. So don't even pretend with me right now, man."

Reid sat back, mumbling under his breath. "Stupid bitch..." JJ's head whipped around at this, glaring at him.

"What did you just say?" Reid cried again.

"It wasn't me, it was him. I swear. I swear, JJ, I couldn't say that about you. I wouldn't say that about you!"

JJ covered her mouth with a hand, voice hitching on a sob as she looked out the window again. She couldn't handle this anymore. She couldn't handle seeing Reid this way. It destroyed her inside. Morgan squeezed the steering wheel tighter. He couldn't handle this either.

The rest of the team, in the van behind them, were lucky. They didn't have to see this.

They finally pulled up at the hospital, and Reid was asleep, curled up against JJ, who stroked his hair and whispered softly to him. He tossed and turned, as though nightmares plagued his sleep, and jolted awake when she gently shook him. He was quiet, though, and it seemed the monster had been slain for the time being.

When they entered, Reid shook. And then ran. He ran straight out the door, and he kept running until they caught up to him. "Hey, hey, Reid, man, come on," Morgan pleaded, reaching out to his friend, but Reid stepped away, shaking his head, holding up a hand in defense.

"I can't do this, I'm not ready to do this."

"We just want to get you checked out, man."

"No, no, you think I'm stupid? You think I don't know how this works? They'll commit me. They'll lock me up in there and pump me full of drugs and they won't let me out."

"We just want to get you checked out..." Morgan repeated, trying again, but Reid shook his head vigorously.

"You can't make me go in there."

JJ spoke up, her gentle voice soothing Reid slightly. "Please, Spence. We just want to take care of you."

"I don't need you to take care of me," he spat. The Man was back, standing behind Reid and softly whispering into his ear what to say. "I can handle this on my own."

The Man whispered to him again. "You're better than this. You can do this without them."

Reid nodded once, then waved a hand at the air behind him. Morgan looked on sadly.

"He's talking to you, isn't he?"

Reid stayed quiet for a moment, then shook his head. "No. No, I'm fine. I swear. It was the drugs. I just need to get off the drugs, and I'll be better, I swear. Just let me try to get off the drugs. Let me try."

Morgan hesitated, and glanced to JJ. JJ shook her head. "How can I trust you, kid?"

Reid's eyes began to well up again. "I don't want to live like this anymore. They... they were messing with my head. But I've been clean for over a day now and he's not here anymore. It was just a side effect; statistically, one in four users have experienced something like this. Just let me get off the drugs and if I'm not better then, I'll do whatever you ask."

Morgan sighed. "Okay, kid. I'm trusting you, here. We care about you, we just want what's best for you, but... you know best."

Reid nodded slowly. "Yes... I do."

Morgan sighed again, motioning for Reid to get into the car. "Come on, kid." As the others climbed out of the other van, Morgan motioned to them. "He's gonna be fine. We're gonna give him a chance to get clean. Let's get back to the office."

Reid was quiet. "Can I work with you?"

Morgan took a moment. "That's Hotch's call." Reid looked to Hotch, patiently awaiting his fate.

"If it will keep you distracted, fine. But no field work. You stay at the office."

Reid nodded, up and down. "Yes, yes, I can do that. Thank you, sir. Thank you."

Hotch nodded curtly. "We trust you, Reid."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

At the office, Reid was twitchy. He kept glancing over his shoulder, then twisting his neck around at something behind him, then scratching at his arms. Morgan watched on with sadness, then would look back down at his work.

"Okay. Back to the drawing board. Where were we before we focused on Reid?"

Prentiss spoke up. "Geographical profile complete, but listen up, we've got new intel. Another murder."

Reid looked up suddenly, eyes wide, timid when he spoke, scared of the answer. "Did he look like me?"

Prentiss hesitated. "He... he bears some similarity, yes." Reid nodded, looking down.

"I'm going to the bathroom."

Morgan nodded, watching after him. He couldn't babysit the kid, he just had to trust him.

But in the bathroom, Reid was scrambling through his messenger bag - did it feel good to have it back and be back in an office - for his drugs, as the Man paced back and forth in the bathroom.

"I wonder why they all look like you."

Reid prepared the needle, trying to ignore the voice.

"Maybe he really will come after you."

Reid pressed it against his skin, taking in a sharp breath.

"You're not ready for this. You're so not ready to be what they need. You're crazy, Spencer. Psycho. Lost your marbles. You have no business being here."

Reid slid the needle under his skin and discharged the drug, emptying it into his veins, where the rush took him over and let him settle back against the wall with a sigh. His eyes fluttered shut, the voice disappeared, and the world went dark. He sighed again, jaw lulling open as the Dilaudid rushed through him and warmed his soul, penetrating to his core. He didn't feel so crazy when he was high.

Ten minutes later, once the rush had passed and his head was clear, he cleaned up and rolled down his sleeve, before joining the team again. "Sorry about that. Not feeling well."

Morgan glanced up. "Withdrawals?" Reid looked away, ashamed.

"Yeah."

Morgan slid a file across the table, which Reid caught and flipped through as he leaned against a desk and crossed his legs.

"This is Jim Haskell, a construction worker from the suburbs. He was 26." Reid cringed as he flipped through the crime scene photos, the gruesome beatings and the hanging figure. It suddenly felt as though the noose was back around his neck, choking him, giving him no room to breathe. "You okay?" Reid looked up.

"Yeah. Yeah... I'm... great."

"Good. We need to come up with a motive here. Where is he finding these guys?"

"Well he clearly has a type, we just need to know why," Prentiss said.

Reid was quiet for a minute, then suggested this: "Maybe these victims remind him of someone. Someone he knew, or knows. Most likely knew. Felt their death was unjustified. Wanted to do it right. But nothing feels right." He paused. "He's doing this out of love."

"Someone he loved must have killed themselves. He's re-creating the act because he couldn't mourn properly when it happened, so he needs to let himself do it now," Prentiss added.

"Good, this is good," Hotch said, entering the room. He looked to Reid. "Good to have you back, Reid."

Reid smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good to be here."

The Man appeared behind him.

"Is it?"

Reid swallowed.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Reid spent a lot of time alone. He refused to go out with the team at the end of the day, he kept to himself at the hotel, and even at work, he often opted to work alone, staying away from the bustle and keeping himself separated.

They knew why. He already had a voice in his head, he didn't need the voices of countless others cluttering up his mind. It would benefit no one, he would not be on his game, he would not get work done.

And he was getting work done. Lots of work. The team looked on with small smiles as he pored over files and wrote on the board, working and re-working the geographical profile. Occasionally, he would approach them with new information, and they would work that into their new profile.

"Garcia, can you find me any deaths of men between the ages of 20 and 27, matching... Reid's description? We need people with brothers, brothers in law, gay males, anyone and everyone who could be connected to our unsub. Most likely in the areas I'm about to send you. We need to figure out this guy's trigger. Maybe an anniversary?"

"Got it. I've got 15. Sending them now."

"Thanks, Babygirl." Morgan shut the phone, and watched closely as Reid excused himself and headed to the bathroom. Morgan growled under his breath, following him. The kid had been taking more bathroom breaks than usual, and actually seemed a bit more calm. He had an idea of what was happening.

But when he walked inside, he winced as he heard the sounds of retching. He swung open the stall door and found Reid on his knees in front of the toilet, gripping the bowl with white knuckles.

"You okay, kid?" Reid took a moment to recover, nodding faintly, then bent over the bowl again. Morgan approached, setting a hand on Reid's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, kid. For trying."

Reid moaned, then sat back, shivering. "I hate this."

"How long do you have clean?"

"Since yesterday."

"You used yesterday?" Reid tangled his fingers together, nodding and looking down. "Okay, kid. Okay. I'm not going to reprimand you. I'm just proud of the day you've got."

Reid looked down at the bandaging around his wrist. "Yeah. Me too."

The Man stood next to Morgan. "But are you happy? Are you enjoying having me around all the time? I know, my voice gets annoying. And I don't ever leave you alone. Doesn't that just suck? Don't you wish you could make me go away?"

Reid was quiet. He didn't want to respond to the voice. "Morgan?"

Morgan looked up. "Yeah, pretty boy."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

Reid was quiet for a moment longer. "I don't know. Everything."

Morgan smirked. "No problem, kid."

It really was no problem. No problem at all. All Morgan wanted was for his Pretty Boy to be safe, happy, and healthy. But he knew it was a long road ahead. A very long, winding, road.

And Reid wasn't there yet. Another week went by, and Reid managed to stay sober. Until he got the note. It was sitting on his bed at the hotel room. He picked it up when he got back from the office, reading over it with shaking hands.

"You can't think I'm not real now. -SR."

He dropped the note as a hand flew to his mouth, and he hitched on a sob. "No. No..."

Reid rushed to the bathroom, fishing a lighter from his bag and burning the small page up, then retrieving a packaged needle and the vial and preparing them with shaking hands. He settled on the floor against the wall, pushing the needle against his skin as he broke inside. The sobs overwhelmed him, the pain in his gut clenched his insides, his body temperature was through the roof. He felt sick, sick and nauseous and headache-y, and all sorts of wrong. He emptied the syringe into his vein, and sunk back slightly, letting his head slowly fall back. "Oh..."

The Man went away.

Morgan found him when he got back from the bar an hour later, from hanging out with the group, without Reid. "Aw, Reid. Reid man. Not again."

He settled down on the floor next to Reid, throwing an arm around his shoulder as he waited for him to come to. Reid nodded in and out of consciousness, letting small moans occasionally fall from his lips. "S'gone."

"What's gone, buddy."

"He's gone."

Morgan sighed, picking up the vial and studying it, before throwing it against the wall in his anger, the thing smashing and flying to pieces. "Good. Fucking good."

The next morning, Reid and Morgan walked out of the hotel room together, Reid standing rigidly and twisting his neck around occasionally, frowning at something. Morgan didn't have to guess what was bothering the kid. "Hey. Hey, what's he saying to you?"

Reid frowned. "Nothing. There's no one there. I'm fine."

The Man jogged up behind Reid, slapping him on the shoulder, sounding out of breath. "You almost left me back there in the hotel room, man. Good thing I caught up. What are we up to today?"

Reid frowned more, picking up his pace slightly. Morgan jogged to catch up.

The Man continued to speak. "Working on the case? Are you getting anywhere? I bet not. Worthless piece of crap."

Reid ignored him.

"What the hell do I have to do to get your attention these days? Tell you you're nothing. Tell you to hurt yourself? Hm, what if I tell you to hurt your friends? Your mother?"

Reid thought to himself, rather than speaking out loud - I won't do it.

"Ha! That's funny. I'm a part of you, remember? Together, we can do anything. We can tear the world apart. We can kill anything and everything you love." The Man held up a razor-blade, glinting as it caught the light. "We can kill yourself, even. Wouldn't you love that? Wouldn't you love to escape all of this?" Reid swatted behind him, and Morgan saw. He looked away. "Wouldn't you love to be free?"

"Yes..." Reid mumbled under his breath, and Morgan glanced over.

"What was that?"

Reid shrugged. "Nothing."

The Man grinned. "Should we do it right now? In front of Morgan?" He handed Reid the blade. Reid stopped, staring at it in the palm of his hand, his brow suddenly sweating and his heart beating faster.

Morgan glanced back, seeing the object in Reid's hand. "Whoa! Whoa, kid, where did this come from?" He carefully extricated the deadly object from Reid's hand. "Listen, kid. We need to get you somewhere safe. A doctor. A hospital. Anything."

A tear streamed down Reid's cheek, and he looked down. "I'll be fine."

"I can't believe you anymore, kid."

"Morgan, listen to me. I had it in the room. I was going to properly dispose of it. You can do that for me if you'd like. I'm really okay."

Morgan studied Reid for a moment, searching him, searching for the answers he knew he wouldn't find, then nodded slowly. "Okay. I'm trusting you, kid."

Reid nodded. "That's all I'm asking."

The Man shrugged. "Ah, well. We can always find another one."

Reid nodded softly. He would find another one. And he would do what he so desperately needed to do, once he got it.

He promised himself that.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

"Rhys Hughmont."

"Bless you?"

"C'mon, Babygirl, that's his name. Rhys Hughmont. That's our top suspect at this point, I need everything you can get me on him."

"No problem, Lovebug. I'll send it over."

Morgan hung up with Garcia and glanced back to Hotch. "I've got a good feeling this is our guy."

Hotch nodded. "It would seem so. Lost his brother, Lorne, five years ago the day of the first murder, by suicide. Hanging. He's looking to mourn, he's looking to see what he could have done differently. And he's punishing his victims by taking out his anger towards his brother on them. He's upset, obviously, that his brother took the easy way out."

Reid swallowed, and glanced up from his paperwork. "Did his brother..."

Morgan sighed. "Yes, Reid." Reid sunk back into his chair, frowning. Of course Hughmont's brother looked like him. It was in the profile.

"How do we get this guy?" JJ asked.

Morgan shrugged. "We just need to figure out his patterns. How he's finding his victims, what his steps are. We need his method."

"So far, we've got that they're all from this area," Reid indicated on the map. "That means he resides somewhere over here." He pointed again. "He stays far away enough to cool off when he's not stalking them, but close enough to... effectively... stalk them."

"He drives a big car. Capable of holding multiple bodies at once. This guy is a multitasker, he's very organized."

"Says so in his job, he owned and operated a restaurant, a thriving local business."

"We could catch him there," JJ offered.

Prentiss shook her head. "No, he won't stay close. But we can talk to friends and family. He has to be nearby and they have to have spoken to him recently."

"Sounds good. Reid?" Reid glanced up when Morgan said his name. "Hotch wants you here. Keep looking at intel, compile what friends and family say about him. Prentiss, go to the residence. See what you can find there. JJ and I will go to the restaurant."

Reid nodded, glancing back down at his paperwork. The Man stood over his shoulder, mocking him, taunting him, coercing him into darkness. "There's nothing more awful than being shunned by the people you love most. Why do they keep you here, in the office? You deserve better. You deserve to be out there, actively working the field, not just stuck behind a desk to 'compile intel'. You're a genius, Spencer, you're far past that. Why can't they see that?"

Reid frowned at his paperwork, gripping the pen tighter. The Man was right. He frowned further, then dropped the pen, scrubbing his hands over his face. "It's... it's nothing. It's fine."

"Fine to be dropped here like you're stupid? What, they don't think you can handle it? Maybe they're right. You can't handle anything. You couldn't handle me, so you just sit here and shoot up and make me disappear for a little while. But it never works, does it? You can't get rid of me." He leaned in a little closer. "You'll never get rid of me."

Reid leaned forward, tangling his fingers in his hair as he groaned. "Go away."

"Still trying that line? Don't be stupid, Spencer. Don't be like JJ."

"Don't talk about her like that."

"You think there's anything going on in that blonde little melon?"

"You don't know her."

"Of course I know her, I'm you. She's second-rate, you only ever liked her because of her eyes. And those cheekbones, mmmm. I'd love to pin her down and violate every inch of her." He paused. "Wouldn't you?"

Reid squeezed his eyes tighter. "Stop it."

"C'mon, Spencer. Wouldn't you?"

"No. I don't see her that way. She's my friend!"

Reid stood up, swiping a hand across the papers and watching them flit towards the floor. He groaned, marching to the bathroom, clutching his bag, and setting up in a bathroom stall. He assembled the gear with tremors in his hands as quickly as he could manage, the needle nearly slipping from his fingers once or twice, then brought the needle to skin, pushing it in and pulling on the plunger slightly to watch the red blossom into the murky brown, swirling together into a murky crimson mud. He injected the whole combination and sat back slightly, shivering as his body quickly melted and sunk against the wall. He let his head tilt back, his curls flopping over his face. The drug took hold of him, and as the muscles relaxed and the pain faded, Spencer could hear the man disappearing back deep into his mind. The way his voice just faded away into nothingness gave Spencer more satisfaction than anything else he had ever known. It was the purest form of relief, of release.

He sighed into the high, nodding off in warm, stoned comfort. He felt better.

Thirty minutes later, he came to on the floor of the bathroom, wondering, for a moment, how he got there, before the reality of the situation hit him. He covered his face with his hands and let the tears of self-loathing and disgust fall. He couldn't control himself. He couldn't stop. He needed help.

But he couldn't ask for it. He knew what would happen. So instead, he stood up, taking a deep, shaky breath before cleaning up, splashing cold water over his face and checking the injection site, then rolling down his sleeve. He wiped away one more tear, then took another deep breath and headed back into the office.

It was still mostly empty, all the team was still out. He sighed at the sight on the floor, and picked up all the papers, tapping them against the desk before setting them down and quickly organizing them into the correct order.

It was the closest thing he had to perfection.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Morgan could see Reid slipping away. He talked to himself; voice small and shaking, twisting his head around at his invisible offender. He scratched at his arms, no doubt the itching the result of repeatedly injecting his drug of choice to make the voice go away. But the thing that worried Morgan the most was the scars across Reid's wrist. They seemed to be healing so slowly. He had to keep an eye on the kid to make sure it didn't happen again.

Reid had been doing good work, but it was beginning to get shaky. He was slower to respond, he didn't get things as quickly. And then came the symptoms. The relaxed gait, the slurred voice, the bloodshot eyes. Reid was getting high at work.

Reid knew he had to stop, but he couldn't. He just couldn't imagine living in a world without the drug. Without the sweet release he so desperately needed, the freedom from the Man, from the voice in his head, that told him to kill, that told him to hurt. It took over his mind, it took over his thoughts, his actions. And then the need came.

The need to hurt, hurt himself, to experience release. The need to escape reality for a while and feel physical pain to destroy the emotional anguish within. He wanted to hurt, he wanted to feel all the hurt he knew he deserved. He wanted to feel the pain he knew he had caused others.

It was all building up to this point; at this point, where he found himself in the bathroom of the hotel with a shaking hand holding a razorblade to his wrist. But he couldn't do it. When it came down to it, he knew he wasn't ready to do this. He wasn't ready to end it, he was't ready to give up. And at that moment, the voice stopped.

Reid looked around, stunned by the sudden silence. It overwhelmed him, to suddenly find himself in this world of deafened nothing. It startled him, almost scared him. He was becoming accustomed to the chatter, and then it was silent. Perhaps this merciful silence was a sham, just a disguise the Man had put on to give Reid a moment of sanity, only to rip it away again.

But the voice didn't come back. It didn't come back for a whole day, and Reid was convinced it wasn't coming back.

The team noticed. He still seemed off, he still seemed depressed. He was often silent. He shook, he sweated. But he didn't crane his neck around or talk quietly to himself. And for that, they smiled.

But it didn't last long. The voice stayed away, but Reid was still slipping. He was late, he was tired. He was always shaking. And when he wasn't, he swayed. Rocked back and forth. His fingers lightly trailed over his skin. He was high. Often.

"Reid."

Reid's eyes shot up. "Yeah. Yeah."

"I need you to pay attention."

Reid glanced down. "I'm sorry. I'm here."

Hotch continued. "He's been in at least one potential victim's home. At least, we assume. One man, one Leandro Miller, looks like the other victims, fits victimology, low risk. His house was ransacked."

"He's staking him out," Reid replied to Hotch. Then, suddenly, Reid looked down, scratching at his arms. "I need... I need to go to the bathroom."

Hotch nodded, just watching as Reid stood up, grabbed his bag, and headed for the bathroom. As soon as Reid was out of sight, Hotch sighed. "Morgan. Go after him."

Morgan nodded, standing and going to the bathroom.

Reid locked himself in a stall and reached into his bag, withdrawing the tools he needed and preparing them with shaking hands. He inserted the tip of the needle into the vial, drawing in the liquid and pressing it against his skin. He slid it in, wincing at the pain, and let the drug into his veins, letting his head rest back as he got his relief. It was just what he needed in a stressful moment, such as the one he had just experienced. Working, working hard. Doing his job. Just doing his job had become too much to handle without a high.

His head nodded forward, and his mouth hung open. The door slammed, and he jolted slightly, still nodding off in his warm, stoned comfort.

"Reid?"

"Mm."

Morgan leaned against the wall, speaking through the stall. "You gotta stop this, buddy. You're gonna lose your job."

Reid mumbled, barely. Incoherent.

"This isn't working in your favor, kid. I know it helps now, but in the long run, it's just gonna ruin you."

"G'me... ten. Ten minutes."

"And you'll be just fine, right kid?"

"Hmm."

Morgan sighed, gently pounding a fist against the wall, twice. "We miss you, Reid. Come back to us."

Reid's response was barely a mumble. "I can't."

Morgan shut his eyes, clenching his jaw in the pain he felt for the young man. The young man with such promise, with so much to live for, throwing it all away. "Yes, you can, buddy. And we'll help. We'll do whatever we need to do to get you back on your feet. Just let us help you."

Again came the broken voice. "I can't."

Morgan sighed again, pounding at the wall once more. "Okay," he said, resigned. "Okay, kid. When you're ready, we'll be here."

Morgan left, and as soon as Reid heard the door shut, he let the tears fall. He broke, he shook and cried without shame, he let release all the pain, all the sorrow, all the hurt. And he road out the rest of his high in tears. He wasn't ready yet. But he would be, soon. He had to be, or he wasn't going to make it out of this alive.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Reid had been descending, descending into madness, into darkness, into black. He had fallen, kept falling and falling away from them, and they saw him flounder and scramble and then just sink. The reality of it had wounded them all deeply, and they didn't even realize just how bad it was.

He was losing sense of self. With the absence of the Man, he had begun to realize maybe being without the voice was what made him crazy. After hearing him for so long, and then, the sudden emptiness... well, the quiet made him numb. It made him regret getting better, it made him uncomfortable. He didn't want the voice back, but something in him felt lost without it. It was like he had lost a part of himself. And while he didn't want that part back... he still felt lost. Something was missing. The only thing that cured that emptiness was the full, complete feeling of the drug, the way it filled his veins and cracks and worked as a layer of safety. A blanket of warmth and comfort, a reprieve from the empty nothingness.

He felt hollow.

The way things had become so convoluted and twisted made his insides turn; he couldn't remember when things had gotten so bad. Maybe he had always been this way. Maybe he was destined to reach this path. Maybe, just maybe, if Tobias Hankel had never taken him... well, damn it all if just maybe he would have ended up here anyway. He was crazy, after all.

And then, all the madness and emptiness and haze became too much to bear. He woke up curled up on the floor, a needle still hanging from his arm, and blood trickling from the wound. He had seven missed calls on his phone and he hadn't shown up for work. That moment was all it took for him to realize he was going to die this way if he didn't change.

He had picked himself up, washed up, and slowly wandered into work with a hand to his head. The team glanced up and their faces all relaxed in immediate relief upon seeing that he was safe. Hotch studied him with a stern sadness, and Reid held up a hand.

"I'm okay."

"Reid. Office. Now."

Reid nodded, looking down, then glancing up once more, locking eyes with Morgan, who wore a look that Reid couldn't quite identify at first. Then, he placed it. Pain.

He followed Hotch into the private office, gait still slow and struggling. He sunk into the chair across from Hotch, who studied him for a minute before looking down.

"Spencer..." Reid was struck into silence by the use of his first name. Hotch shook his head, starting again. "Spencer. You need to be honest with me here. You're using." Hotch stated this, already knowing the answer. "You're still using."

Reid nodded, looking down. His voice cracked when he spoke. "Y-yes."

"You know I can't allow this."

Reid swallowed. "I know."

Hotch tapped on a paper on the desk for a moment. "This is a filing for medical leave. It's yours, if you'd like to take it. I want to offer you this opportunity to get clean in a stress-free environment. I can give you a week."

Reid nodded. "I'd like to take that opportunity."

"You want to get clean."

"I do."

Hotch's face didn't change, it stayed the way it was. Stern and sad. "We can help you, Reid. We want to help you. We want to support you in any way we can. We just want you to get through this."

Reid nodded, and he had to choke back a sob as the tears stung his eyes. "Thank you," he barely whispered. He met Hotch's eyes. Hotch had to close his own for a moment as the immense pain in Reid's eyes jumped the table over to him. "I need help," he whimpered, reaching up to clear the tears. "I don't want to do this anymore."

"I understand, Reid. I do. And we just want you to be safe, and healthy, and happy. And you're not any of those things right now."

Reid shook his head, looking down again. "No."

"I know you're not happy."

"I'm not."

"So let us help you."

Reid nodded, keeping his head down. "Okay. I can do that."

"I'm glad."

Reid sighed, glancing out the window, wishing, hoping, praying for freedom. He couldn't handle being in chains any longer.

"Me too."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The first day, Morgan stayed with him. Reid woke with a start, hand flying over his mouth as he darted towards the bathroom, lunging over the toilet basin and heaving, coughing. Morgan winced when he woke up to the noise, padding to the bathroom and kneeling next to Reid. "You okay, man?"

Reid pulled his head up for only a minute. "'Okay' is actually a subjective term, so..."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "Can I get you anything?"

Reid sat back, panting, and tried to shake his head, but the action sent his stomach churning and his head reeling all over again. "I'll be okay."

Morgan stood, brushing off his pajama pants and looking down at Reid. "I'll order breakfast."

"I won't be able to keep it down."

Morgan sighed. "Give it a try."

Reid did, and not 30 minutes later he was bent over the toilet again. "I need the drugs."

Morgan studied him, studied the way Reid shook from some unidentifiable cold, head reeling and sight tunneling in. He nearly passed out from the dehydration and Morgan kept him on a steady diet of soup and Gatorade, but never gave in. He never gave Reid the drug, and the demons inside Reid were beginning to resent Morgan for it.

"I need it. I know you have it, give it to me. Please, Morgan, I'm experiencing severe withdrawal symptoms. Tapering doses are often more effective than cold turkey, it could help."

Morgan just stood there, shaking his head, and Reid broke. He covered his face with his hands and cried, sobbed, and Morgan had to just stand there and watch. He finally left, giving Reid some space to himself, and sat outside on the bed, staring down at the vials in his hand. He was beginning to wonder if Reid was right. If maybe a tapering dose would ease the Hell Reid was going through.

But he never gave in. Not with Reid. He couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk further harming his Pretty Boy.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

The second day brought a fresh hell. Reid felt the heat searing through his bones and sore muscles, then it would suddenly become deathly cold. The way the temperature changed, and the withdrawals, gave him miserable flu-like symptoms. He coughed, wheezed, sniffled, and got sick, over and over and over again. And it felt like it was never going to end. Worse still, was the feeling. He had become accustomed to the numb, and the easing of his ever-churning mind. Now came the reality, butterflies fluttering in his head, scattering at a stone thrown their way. He couldn't control all the thoughts, the thoughts of hurt, pain, and sorrow. The wounds, the emptiness. He just wanted the numbness back.

Morgan stayed by his side whenever he could, but sometimes, he just needed to go into the office. Because he had work to do, but also because of the strain this put on him. Work was a reprieve, he hated seeing the young boy so miserable. So young, and already so filled with pain. He was far too young, for so much pain, so much harsh reality, so many bad hands dealt to him. No wonder the kid had cracked under the pressure. Morgan couldn't see how someone could even attempt to handle all that had been thrown Reid's way without breaking inside.

He had spiraled down fast. Even now, as he recovered, he was still falling. Deeper and deeper into the misery, accompanied by minute moments of relief, only to be brushed away under the carpet and hollowed out by further madness. It just wasn't fair, Morgan thought. None of it was fair, as he watched the boy struggle and drown.

Then the third day, Reid broke. Morgan found the note. "38th and Brooklyn. Please stop me."

He found him in an alley just off 38th and Brooklyn, knees up against his chest, one arm thrown over his knees and his bruised and scabbed arm hanging by his side, head nodding forward. The belt lay strewn on the ground and the needle was far off, as though he had thrown it away as soon as he realized what he had done.

"Reid. Spencer." Reid could barely lift his head to respond, but couldn't meet Morgan's eyes. "Reid, you gotta stop this. You're gonna die like this." Reid's head fell forward again as the drug took over, and he provided a soft mumble, incoherent. Something of a moan, intended to be speech but unable to be deciphered as he fell into the drug once again. Morgan sat down next to him, not minding the filthy ground and the squalor around him. He threw an arm over Reid's shoulder, and a tear slipped down his cheek as he thought of his friend, his brother, and the way he used to be, before all of this. "You had a year, man. You had come so far. I'm sorry this is pulling you, I'm sorry it's so bad, but man, you gotta listen to me when I say it can get better. Really, kid. You can get better again. You've done it before, you can do it again."

Reid moaned again, his head falling and hitting Morgan's shoulder. Morgan looked down at the form next to him, and sighed, ruffling the kid's hair. "M'gan." Morgan glanced over.

"Yeah, buddy."

"Stop me. Please."

Morgan nodded, clenching his jaw and beating the pavement once with his fist. "I tried, buddy. I really tried."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

At the hotel, Reid was coming down and Morgan was pacing the room, angry. "How can we get this guy. Where is he? What do we need to do?"

Reid was curled up on the bed, moaning softly and mumbling nonsensical words, until Morgan stopped to listen.

"S'still in town. Close by. S'where significant. To his brother."

Morgan glanced over. "He's somewhere significant to his brother, I know."

"S'the only place." Morgan stopped.

"What are you talking about, kid?"

"They went together."

"No matter what, they always went together... the school. He's at the school."

Morgan quickly dialed Hotch. "Hotch, it's Morgan. He's at the school. They went together from grade one, always in the same class. He's probably at their elementary school."

"Good, Morgan. Where did you get this intel?"

Morgan sighed, glancing over at Reid, still stoned. "Reid."

"How did he come up with it?"

Morgan sighed again. "I don't... I don't know, Hotch. He's high again."

"He is."

"Yeah. I tried, Hotch, but when I got back from the office..."

"He was gone."

"I found him in midtown. Got him back at the hotel now."

"Well either way he's on to something. Let's get there now."

"I can't leave him, Hotch."

"Then he'll have to come with us. Can he walk?"

Morgan looked over at Reid, who was now pacing the apartment, hands in his hair, working through the case in his mind."

"Yeah, yeah, he's... he's come down."

"I'll call the others."

As soon as they were all sufficiently awake and loaded into the car, Morgan glanced back at Reid in the backseat, who was staring out the window, hands shaking in his lap.

"Kid."

Reid shut his eyes. "Don't, Morgan."

"I'm sorry I didn't stop you."

Reid took a moment to gather his thoughts. "It's all my fault. Not yours."

"Reid-"

"I just have to believe this pain will go away. I just have to believe that this isn't it for me, that there's something better, there's some point in my life where this will just turn off and all the hurt, and the pain, and the doubt will go away." He looked forward at Morgan. "I'm tired of being sick. I'm tired of being crazy. And I'm tired of letting this run my life."

Morgan drummed his thumb on the steering wheel. "I know, kid."

Prentiss, who sat next to Reid, reached over and squeezed his hand. Reid looked over, then down. Prentiss was stern when she spoke. "Reid. You are the strongest person I know. You have overcome so much. This is just your next battle. You can do it. I know you can."

Reid nodded, looking at his hand shake in her own. He blinked as tears stung his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered.

They pulled up to the scene, and Morgan craned his neck around. "Reid, you'll need to stay here."

Reid nodded, crossing his scarred arms and focusing his attention out the window, refusing to look Morgan in the eyes in his shame.

The team barreled through the doors, storming the place.

"Clear!" called Prentiss.

"Clear!" called Morgan.

"I've got something!" called Hotch. The followed his voice and found him standing at an entrance to a basement. A soft moan was heard from below.

"FBI! We're coming down!"

Hotch carefully stepped down the stairs, his gun and flashlight drawn, the light shining at full force in the darkness.

He scanned over the area, hearing the moaning again. He quickly turned his flashlight towards the direction of the sound, finding a young man, fitting the victimology, bound and gagged in the corner of the room. He quickly went to him, pulling out the gag.

"Do you need medical attention?"

The man nodded, coughing.

"What is your name?"

"Darryl Williams."

"Darryl, where is the man who did this to you?"

Darryl nodded towards a door across the room.

"Prentiss, Rossi, go after him. Morgan, go stay with Reid in the car. Be sure he's safe."

Morgan nodded and they dispersed while Hotch called for paramedics, staying with Darryl.

Prentiss and Rossi went through the door, in search of their unsub.

Morgan headed towards the car.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Reid had gotten out to stretch his legs, still coming off the high, when he suddenly felt the cool metal of a barrel against the back of his head. He froze, breaths coming out in ragged bursts. "Careful, FBI."

"I know who you are. I also know I have a gun to your head. So maybe it's you who should be careful."

The voice kept the barrel against Reid's head, moving it along his temple as he stepped in front of Reid, now holding it directly against the side of his head. He carefully caressed Reid's jaw line with the gun, tilting his head to one side.

"You're pretty. You know who you look like?" The man glanced to the side, as though he was thinking hard.

"Lorne. I look like your brother, Lorne."

The man snapped his fingers. "That's it. That's exactly it." He looked to Reid again. "It's so funny. You could almost pass for him. But... that's impossible. You know why?"

Reid swallowed, trying to keep his composure, tremors running through every limb.

"Because he's gone. He's gone, and he's not coming back, and I'm very sorry for that, but this is not the solution."

"It's worked pretty well so far."

"Please move the gun."

"That's funny."

Reid swallowed again. "Either shoot me, or put the gun down."

The man considered this, then lowered his weapon. "Hm." He studied Reid a bit longer, then quickly brought the gun up again, shoving the barrel under Reid's chin. "This feels a little more natural."

"This isn't how it works for you. You don't just shoot people who look like me. You punish them for what your brother did to you. There's no quick and easy death. You take your time. So why am I different?"

Rhys shoved the barrel a little harder, and Reid jumped. "You're right. I need to punish you first."

He quickly brought the barrel down to Reid's foot, finger poised over the trigger.

Then, the echo of a gunshot.

**A/N: End chapter 14. Thank you for your patience with this one. Next update tonight or tomorrow. **


End file.

Criminal Minds, Drama, Hurt-Comfort