Chapter Text
“Trust in dreams, for in them is the hidden gate to eternity.”
-Khalil Gibran
When they touched down in Las Vegas, the group split up; JJ and Hotch went to meet Michael Bridges’ parents, Craig and Amy, and Prentiss and Rossi headed out to the desert landscape to investigate the last crime scene. That left Reid and Morgan to pay a visit to the M.E., who was awaiting them with his autopsy report on the first victim, young Ethan Hayes.
That poor boy… Usually Spencer was pretty good at withholding his emotions while on the job, even when it came to cases involving children, but something about Ethan struck within him a sense of familiarity that made him feel uneasy. He had never known the child before and probably wouldn’t have before now, but he didn’t have to know him to feel sympathy for his untimely death. He was so young yet his entire life had been snuffed out from under him. He wasn’t entirely sure where that thought came from, but Spencer was briefly faced with the idea of something like that happening to him when he was a child. He had never really thought about himself in a situation like that before, at least not like this, and perhaps he was just sleep deprived to the point where he was beginning to falter, just slightly, in his ability to keep a level head.
He always did his best to stay calm and collected, but this case was brewing a storm in his brain, the heavy rainfall pounding in his ears mercilessly. He had the growing urge to just curl up in a ball and rock back and forth, and everything seemed like it was too much. But sitting in an SUV with Morgan’s imposing figure made that impossible. They had a job to do, and no matter how questionable his mental state was, he couldn’t just back out. A boy’s life was at stake here, and by letting himself get distracted, he was putting more unnecessary risk on his life.
“Hey, um… Morgan?” Reid asked quietly. The darker man hummed in acknowledgement, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.
“What is it, Reid?” he asked, and Spencer gnawed on the inside of his cheek, looking down at his crossed legs, one skinny thigh placed meticulously over the other. Suddenly he felt very small next to Derek. He realized he was probably taking too long to respond, especially since Morgan looked over at him, one eyebrow raised, when all he heard was silence.
“Pretty boy?” he said his pet name quietly. Spencer licked his lips at the sound of it, picking at the hem of his pants. There was always something about Morgan that made him feel different. Derek Morgan was an attractive, successful man with women throwing themselves at him left and right, in every city, on every day of the week. Spencer was well aware of Derek’s attractiveness, but oftentimes the line between acknowledging it and being attracted to him blurred and it was hard to differentiate.
Simply put, Spencer was hopelessly infatuated with Derek.
But pursuing something like that was foolish for two reasons; For starters, Derek was as straight as an arrow, although if he did swing that way, Reid doubted that he would be the type of man that Derek would find appealing. He dimmed in comparison to Derek; he didn’t find himself very attractive, and even if Derek did find him ‘pretty’ as his favorite nickname suggested, they were far too different. They had different interests, different lifestyles, and it simply would never work out between them. Derek was exciting, Spencer was boring.
To add to the pile of reasons why they couldn’t possibly work, they were coworkers. Having a relationship that crossed the friendship boundaries was almost impossible and certainly risky. Relationships between coworkers who worked in the same unit was strongly discouraged, and although the fraternization policies weren’t often upheld, if it had a negative impact on job performance, section chiefs wouldn’t hesitate to split up couples or go so far as to fire one or both partners. Spencer didn’t think it was worth risking. Besides, he had grown comfortable with his inadvertent solitude, so it didn’t seem right to break the pattern now.
“I, um… I’m feeling really unsure about this case,” he admitted, opening up to Morgan in a rather uncharacteristic way, and that didn’t go unnoticed by him either. There was another moment of uncomfortable silence between them, both contemplating the meaning of that statement before Morgan dared to respond.
“Maybe you should follow Hotch’s advice,” he said slowly, delicately, like Spencer would shatter with a single misplaced word.
“What advice?” Reid asked, his nose twitching in slight frustration at his realization, “You… You think I should sit this one out?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Derek said quickly, “But if you’re doubting yourself, do you think it’s a good idea to put yourself in a position where you could make a mistake? Possibly even a deadly one?” he tried to reason, but Spencer was already shaking his head, humming his disagreement immediately.
“No… No, I know I can do my job, Morgan,” he said, “It’s just this feeling that won’t go away, that something bad is going to happen… I can’t explain it.”
“Try,” Morgan encouraged.
“I don’t know. It’s just… you know that feeling of dread you get in the pit of your stomach when you realize an unsub isn’t going to back down?” Reid said, hoping that analogy would give Derek at least some semblance of how he was feeling about the case.
“I know exactly how that feels,” Derek said.
“It’s kind of like that; Realizing something is going to go wrong and knowing there’s nothing you can do about it,” Spencer murmured, his hands fidgeting in his lap now, playing with the strap of his messenger bag - that was another reason why he liked to carry it with him everywhere. It was a big, portable stimming toy that no one would think much about.
“Try not to think like that. It doesn’t do us any good to go into a case with a negative mindset,” Morgan said, glancing over at Reid with a softness in his dark eyes, “You aren’t alone in this. We’ll get ‘em, Reid.”
That was somewhat comforting to Spencer, even though he already knew it. To be reminded that he had someone on his side was relieving. Derek often didn’t realize the impact he had on the young doctor, and sometimes even Spencer felt a bit embarrassed by that fact. Morgan was a pretty monumental figure in his life; he idolized him greatly. Morgan was his muse, and whether or not he realized that, Spencer doubted that would ever change.
When they arrived at the M.E., they gave quick introductions before getting right to business. The medical examiner pulled the mortuary gurney out from its cooler, the small body on top looking even smaller, hidden underneath a thin white sheet. “There was no bruising around his neck or face. I'm guessing he used a pillow.”
Morgan, with a solemn expression on his face, lifted up the sheet with gloved hands, and in fact, the body underneath was nearly spotless, no noticeable signs of trauma of any kind.
“Was there any sign of a struggle?” Reid asked, his brows furrowed. It was hard to take his eyes off of the poor boy’s face, nearly as white as the sheet that had once been concealing it.
“No, but he would have been extremely weak,” The medical examiner said.
“Why’s that?” Morgan asked, replacing the sheet back over the boy’s head. Good , Reid thought briefly, even in death, this child doesn’t deserve to hear the evilness of the world.
“This is where it gets weird,” the man said, looking back and forth between the two agents. “He was noticeably thin, and both his stomach and intestines were completely empty.”
“He was being starved?” Reid asked, perplexed.
“It seems that way,” the M.E. said, although it was clear by his tone that there was a bit more to it.
“Okay, so what's the weird part?” Morgan questioned.
“I wanted to determine if malnutrition played a part in his death, so I looked for evidence of starvation ketosis by analyzing the vitreous humor: the squishy part of the eyeball,” he explained, “And I couldn't find any ketone bodies there.”
“Meaning?” Morgan prompted.
“He was getting nutrients somehow,” Reid answered thoughtfully.
“Through an IV?” Morgan asked.
“There were no marks to indicate that,” the medical examiner responded with a shake of his head.
“Any idea what else could it be?” Reid asked, genuinely confused.
“Honestly, I have no idea,” the man said.
After their time at the M.E.’s office, Morgan called Hotch. He told them that they would regroup at the Bridges’ house, and that both he and Morgan would stay with them throughout the night in case they received a phone call from the unsub. But when they arrived at the Bridges’ residence, they were immediately gestured to be quiet upon entering, and they realized immediately why; the unsub had already contacted them, just like he had the previous victim’s family. He and Morgan stood quietly near the entrance to avoid bringing attention to themselves and disturbing the call. They shared a look, both unsettled.
“ He doesn’t want to talk to you ,” the unsub said through a robotically altered voice, “ He knows what a bad mother you are. ”
But the next statement really caught Reid by surprise, and although he didn’t exactly get the time to ponder it immediately, he stored it in the back of his brain for future reference.
“ Your three minutes are up .”
After JJ introduced the two of them, Michael’s parents both excused themselves from the room. Reid couldn’t even begin to imagine how they were feeling, especially not after talking to the unsub himself. Of course he could list off emotions they were feeling; confusion, stress, paranoia… The rational, educated part of his brain could say those things without batting an eye, but he knew that behind each of those words hid a plethora of sensations; the sensation of crumbling stability, like everything was going wrong because their son was gone and there was absolutely nothing they could do about it except stay home and wait .
Briefly, he and Morgan recounted the information they gathered at the medical examiner, and although the starvation theory was possible, it directly conflicted with the care their unsub had for the body. They were so close, Reid could feel it, but they still had some missing pieces to uncover.
When they were left alone for the night, Reid and Morgan hunkered down in the Bridges’ living room, bouncing off several other theories between them before coming up empty and deciding that they should get at least a couple hours of sleep. Spencer couldn’t agree more. He didn’t exactly remember when he had fallen asleep, but it wasn’t long after, his lanky form slumped down into the couch cushions, his neck angled at an awkward angle.
And the dream came again, but this time, something was different.
He realized almost immediately that he was lucid dreaming, and slowly, he rolled his head to the side, eyes fluttering open. He sat himself and stood from the sofa, an indescribable force pulling him towards the hallway, where he opened a door and was faced with a familiar set of steps. Alone this time, he slowly descended them, a hand raised to his holster where he slipped his revolver out, scanning the basement until his eyes landed on a pair of familiar Converses, peeking out from behind the dryer.
He wasn’t alone like he originally thought, footsteps following him down the stairs. He didn't even have to look back to know who the pair was. Something ingrained in him knew exactly who that boy behind the dryer was, but try as he might, he couldn’t even begin to identify him.
“Couldn’t find any evidence of forced entry,” Rossi said from behind him. Reid’s gaze never shifted away from the boy.
“Why would that matter?” he asked, his voice borderline distressed.
“‘Cause it means he most likely knew his attacker,” Morgan said, as if he were stating obvious knowledge. But Reid wasn’t concerned with that anymore. Looking down at his chest, he felt a burning sensation ripple under his shirt, his hands coming up to grasp at the material. He heard Rossi say his name slowly, but his fingers were already digging into the fabric, clawing apart the buttons. Leeches were latched onto his chest, sucking the blood straight from his pale skin. He called for Morgan to get them off, panic growing in his rising voice, but hands roughly grabbed his forearms, and he looked up from where he had been screaming into the cushions.
“Reid, Reid, wake up,” Morgan said urgently to him, holding him still and forcing him to look at him, those dark brown eyes becoming his greatest solace. “It’s Morgan.”
Horrified at what just happened, Reid didn’t even register Craig Bridges’ voice as he and his wife came downstairs, stopping at the first platform and looking on at the two agents in panicked confusion. Even Spencer didn’t know exactly what was going on, his heart rate increased and his breathing rapid, his hands trembling as he pressed them against his temples.
“What the hell’s going on?” Craig asked frantically. Morgan looked to Reid briefly before turning to calm the woken couple.
“Sir, ma’am, everything’s okay,” Morgan said as he approached the bottom of the stairs with his hand raised to halt the man in his tracks. Spencer stared down at his lap, still feeling a phantom burning sensation in his chest as the vivid images of leeches sucking the blood straight from his skin played over and over in his mind. Leeches...
“You wake us up screaming, you think everything’s okay?” Craig questioned incredulously.
“Look, I understand we startled you, and I'm sorry for that,” Derek tried to apologize.
“You’re the FBI,” Craig reminded them harshly.
“You’re right… You’re right, I’m really-I’m really sorry,” Reid said, breathless as he dragged his hands through his hair, pushing it back away from his face. The Bridges looked at him with disbelief clear on their faces, but Morgan quickly jumped in to reassure them that everything was fine.
“Sir, please, go back upstairs and try to get some rest. It was just a misunderstanding. Everything is fine, I promise you that.” he said to Craig, who wordlessly retreated back up the stairs. But Amy stood still, looking at Reid who had stood up from the couch now, her arms crossed over chest while concern showed in her narrowed eyes.
“Are you okay?” Amy asked, and Reid couldn’t even look up at her, ashamed of what had just happened.
“It was a dream, I’m really sorry,” he apologized quietly, but Amy clearly wanted more from him.
“Was it about Michael?” she asked, hope lingering in the soft tones of her voice. Reid felt terrible, knowing he was going to destroy that hope.
“No,” he answered then, his voice a whisper.
“I've been afraid to close my eyes,” Amy said to him, her sadness tangible, “I'm scared I'll see him die.”
The eye contact between the two lasted for only a couple of seconds, but to Reid, it felt like a lifetime. He could see the suppressed terror in her eyes, and something about it seemed so familiar, like he had seen it in someone else before. It was nostalgic in a strange way that he couldn’t quite explain, and that indescribable feeling of dread that hollowed out his insides increased nearly tenfold. He didn’t even think of how to respond, maintaining shy eye contact with her even as Morgan spoke once again, “Ma'am, I know it's hard. But I need you to go upstairs and try to get some sleep… Please. I am sorry for the disturbance.”
Amy cast Reid one last lingering gaze before turning and heading upstairs. Spencer heard Morgan let out a quiet sigh once they were alone, and he too exhaled a heavy breath while sitting himself back down on the sofa. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. It felt like he was steadily spiraling downward towards just completely losing it. He felt so out of control, like he had no power over the situation, and to Reid, that was devastating.
“I’m making everything worse,” he muttered, glancing up as Morgan came to sit near him, a near-pained pinch in his brows.
“Reid...” Morgan said, sounding concerned but wanting to try and keep Reid calm. “These cases get to all of us.”
“I'm losing it in their living room. And I'm dreaming-I'm dreaming about dead kids… and being covered in leeches ,” Reid said, sounding troubled himself. Leeches in dreams represented a bad presence in one’s life, something negative that was, quite literally, sucking the life out of someone. They screamed danger, but Spencer didn’t know what exactly he should be afraid of except himself.
“What the hell is scaring you?” Morgan asked.
“This boy's gonna die and there's nothing I can do to stop it,” Reid said on the verge of tears, his teeth gritting slightly to suppress the sobs he wanted so badly to just let overtake him. The emotions swirling inside of him like a category five hurricane were overwhelming and the stress was getting to be too much. Coming back home had more power over him than he had expected it to. He didn’t know why, but it almost felt like he had been through this exact experience before, but in another lifetime. Leeches… What did that mean ?
“Reid,” Morgan said softly again, reaching a hand over and gently prying Spencer’s hand loose from where it was clenched so tightly over his thigh that he didn’t even realize it was becoming painful. He slowly loosened his grip, and Morgan kept their hands together, knuckles knocking against each other in gentle maneuvers until their fingers were magically entwined together. Interlaced fingers means intimacy, Reid thought systemically, This is intimate. Morgan-- Derek is being intimate with me.
“Morgan,” Spencer repeated in a voice that was just as quiet as Derek’s. Neither of them said anything for sometime, and during that span of silence, Morgan had moved to sit beside him on the couch. Reid was so out of it that he wasn’t even entirely aware that it had happened until a strong arm was gently laying itself over his shoulder, pulling him closer.
“I don’t know what exactly is going on, and based on your behavior I don’t think you do either. But you can talk to me, kid. About anything and I’ll listen. Even if you just want to ramble about one of your most recent hyperfixations, I’ll listen,” Derek said, his hand coming up to card through his hair, gently massaging his scalp in a way that seemed to relax him almost instantly. This intimacy was more special to Spencer than Derek probably understood, because he wouldn’t let just anyone do this.
Spencer hadn’t been touched like this in a long, long time. His passing nights with Ethan in college were just that - passing. They both held an unspoken understanding that it was never going to be permanent between them. They used no labels with each other, never addressed each other as their significant other, but that was okay, because neither expected that from the other. But Spencer wanted so much more than just fleeting nights of trivial passion with Derek. He craved emotional intimacy with him, and despite the fact that he knew this was just a friend helping a friend for Morgan, he could always hold on to that fragile speck of hope that it would become something more one day.
With that fantasy in mind, Reid began to murmur lowly about the creation of sea glass, how those jagged edges were softened over time into smooth, rounded surfaces of frosted hues. Somehow, he wondered if he and Morgan could gradually become like sea glass too.
And you promise yourself
you will never fall so hard again,
until you meet someone,
who makes the fall feel like flying
-Nikita Gill