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Time	By : cr8zymommy Category: 1 through F > Criminal Minds Views: 4585 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story

Chapter List
- 9
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- 11
Morgan stared at the wall, unable to break his thoughts free from everything that had just played on that tape. He paid no attention to the oppressive silence that seemed to surround them all. None of them knew what to say right then. There were so many new facts, so many horrible images in their minds. Images they knew they would never be able to get rid of.
“The medical information you gave me indicated that a rape kit was performed and came back negative.” Aaron’s voice suddenly broke into the tense silence. All eyes turned toward him, but he was looking at Emily. “That she denied being raped. Yet, here she clearly states she was.”
Their Unit Chief’s mind was going into work mode; trying to catalog the information he’d been given. All of them knew that Aaron dealt with his stress through work. It wasn’t callous, as they had all once thought. It was a defense mechanism. He, as their leader, felt that he couldn’t be as free to break down. He couldn’t show as much emotion as the rest of them. So he channeled all his feelings into his work. It made him a damn good Agent, but it came with a cost. Everyone needed to vent from time to time. Bottling things up wasn’t healthy.
Emily nodded, her expression looking more broken than Morgan could ever remember seeing it. Usually Emily was just as good as Aaron as keeping her feelings under control. But this whole situation seemed to be taking her walls down, brick by brick, revealing the gentle heart she hid underneath.
“There was nothing to indicate rape.” Emily explained. “But they ran the initial test just to be cautious. When I spoke to the doctor after the interview, she told me that they’d only tested Cindy for a vaginal rape. Partially because that is what’s most common for a female. Also because she denied it and, when they were doing their test, there were no signs of anything that indicated anal rape. After talking with the doctor, though, they went back in her room. I got the call as I came in the station here that there were internal signs of anal rape, but that they’d healed over. Most likely they were a few days old.”
How on earth could they have run a rape kit and not done a complete check? Morgan stared at her, shocked. How could the doctors not have done this right?
Rossi’s hand was still on his shoulder. He gave a comforting squeeze as he said “That was probably intentional on her part, only letting them do half the test. You can’t force a victim to submit to testing.”
Wiping her tears, JJ cleared her throat. It was obvious that she was trying to push her emotions down as well and failing miserably at it. Her voice was just shy of steady. “Why would he anally rape her? Isn’t that uncommon for offenders to do on their female victims?”
“Not necessarily. If he’s a homosexual trying to convince himself he’s straight, this could be how he makes it work. Or he could be trying to go for the most painful route possible. Men like him get off on causing as much pain as they can.” Emily added.
It was just all a little too much. Morgan didn’t know if he could just stand here and discuss this while Spencer was sitting out there, sleeping against Garcia. He didn’t know if he could think on all this when his brain was still so full of the words Cindy had spoken. How had his pretty boy survived this? How could anyone survive something like this? It was no wonder that he wasn’t quite all the way there! The horrors he’d lived through, none of them could begin to comprehend. The strength it must have taken to survive as long as he had survived was immense.
“I’m going to take him to the hotel.” Morgan broke into the conversation. He felt their eyes turn to him and met each gaze with a steady look. “Unless he’s being arrested, I want to take him to the hotel. Get him cleaned up, in some fresh clothes, and let him sleep.”
JJ looked doubtful. “Morgan…”
“What?”
His snapped response had her blanching for a moment before she firmed her spine. “It might not be as simple as that. He…he needs help. He should be with doctors who can help him. Psychologists.”
“He trusts absolutely no one but Garcia and maybe me a little and you want to send him to a bunch of shrinks in a hospital? They don’t know him like we do! They won’t understand him. He’ll just be more terrified, more isolated, and we could end up losing him to his own mind!” Morgan argued furiously with her. There was no way he was going to let them lock Spencer up! He wasn’t going to leave him now that he’d found him. They were the ones who were crazy if they thought that!
To his surprise, Rossi stepped up in his defense. “Morgan’s right.” He told the room. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t get him help. We should. We will. But right now, trust is a fragile thing for him. If we’re going to not only pull him back out of this, but get him to cooperate with any doctors, we need to build that trust. Morgan and Garcia are the two he trusts the most right now. Garcia is the only one he remembers. I think the three of them should share a hotel room. Try to pull back the Spencer Reid we all know and love.”
“I agree.” Aaron added in. That was enough for the rest of them. The word of their boss was what held the most sway here. Not that Morgan cared. He would have done it, regardless. But he was glad to have his team backing him.
A voice broke into their room, muffled by the closed door. But it was clear enough for them all to recognize it as Garcia screaming out “Morgan!”
In a flash Morgan was across the room, yanking open the door and darting out.

“Scream for me, boy. I love hearing your screams.”
He did just that, screams echoing in the small room. Echoing so loud he felt as if they would vibrate his bones. Shake his very soul. The pain was excruciating. Master was going to kill him this time. He had made him so mad; he was going to actually kill him.
The belt snapped down onto his back again, overtop one of the fresher knife wounds. The explosion of agony almost had him blacking out. He felt as if he’d gone blind and deaf underneath it. He didn’t even hear his own scream. But he felt it in his throat. Felt the harshness that was left behind.
Laughter was the first thing he heard. At least his ears were working again.
“That’s right, boy. You have the most beautiful screams. You know you like this. You wouldn’t disobey me if you didn’t like it, isn’t that true?”
No, no! He wasn’t trying to disobey! He wasn’t.
Another whistle of the belt through air. Agony. Laughter.
The belt was around his neck suddenly. He felt it moving and then it was cinched tight, like a collar. His hands were unhooked, letting his body drop to the ground. Hands on his hips pulled him to his knees. Then the belt was being pulled, cutting off his air, and the familiar sensation started in his backside as he felt his Master roughly enter him.
‘Someone, help me!’ his mind screams at him. He doesn’t have the air to speak it out loud. ‘Please! Help me!’ He didn’t want this anymore. He didn’t want to hurt. Was tired of the pain that had become his daily companion.
But there was no one to help him. No one was going to come for him. There was only him and Master.
In the back of his mind he felt something rattle; that forbidden place that he never let himself think of. There was only pain there. Only heartache. He no longer knew what was there but he knew that it hurt. Yet, as he silently begged for someone to save him, that place gave another rattle, like something was trying to break free from the mental box he’d put it in.
He tried not to think of the pain that came from the familiar violation. He tried to breathe despite the belt on his throat. He even tried to ignore the hand that was running down his injured back, painting with his blood. It wasn’t working.
‘Help me.’ His mind whispered. Was there no one in the world who loved him? Had he always been Master’s boy? It was all he could remember. But, no, there was something else. That little box in his mind rattled even harder. For just one instant, it opened, the pain of it flooding him, hurting him far worse than anything that was being done to his body.
He cried out, shoving those thoughts back where they belonged. Shoving the hurt down as far as he could and locking it up as tight as possible. But not before one thing came to mind. One name that slid from his lips before he could stop it. “Morgan.” It was like a sigh, soft and sweet. He didn’t know who Morgan was, didn’t remember knowing anyone by that name. Hell, he didn’t know anyone but Master. But that name, just saying it out loud like that, brought a swell of emotions into his heart. It was like sunshine on a cloudy day. Food to a starving man. Water on the desert that was his soul.
Lost in those sensations, he almost didn’t notice when the rape stopped. But he was drawn back to the present when the belt around his neck was yanked so tight he couldn’t draw breath. He was choking, dying. Master was going to kill him.
“Kid!”
Who was that screaming? Was there a kid here? Oh, please no, please don’t let there be a child witnessing this. The boy brought his hands up, trying to pull on the belt, trying to draw air.
“Reid! Come on, man! Come on, kid!”
Reid? Who was Reid?
Hands were on his shoulders, shaking him, intensifying the pain. Please, stop. The words moaned in his mind. Slowly his brain was going blank, his vision going dark. He couldn’t breathe!
“Dammit, kid! Wake up!”
Wait, he knew that voice. Why was he here? Was he going crazy? Was the loss of oxygen to his brain making him hallucinate now? Wait. How did he know this man? Where had he seen him before? The world was starting to fade around him. The pain in his throat lessened and the hands on his arms were pulling his attention forward. His world felt all out of focus.
“Come on, come on. Come back to me. That’s it. I’m right here. This is Morgan touching you. Morgan’s hands. Can you feel me? Wake up, kid.”
With one startling gasp, that was what the boy did. His eyes shot open, staring unseeing for a moment. He was stuck in that instant between the world of his dreams and the world he was in. The only thing that felt real, solid, was the hands touching his arms. Hands that weren’t hurting him. Like Garcia’s touch, this one didn’t hurt, didn’t inflict pain. It wasn’t demanding or unwanted.
Before he could think about it, the boy looked up into the eyes of the dark man kneeling in front of him. Reality sank in as he stared into those eyes. He felt the couch against his body. Hear the sounds of the station around him. That’s right. He wasn’t home. Master wasn’t here. He was at a police station and he’d been sleeping on the couch. This was all a dream. It had only been a dream.
A strangle sound came from somewhere. It took the boy a moment to realize that it had come from him. He was the one that had made that sound. Then another one came. He recognized it this time as the sob ripped past his lips.
For so long he had lived in a world of pain. In a place where every touch brought hurt and dominance and the promise of more pain. But the warm hands holding his arms weren’t hurting him. They were offering something he was terrified to take. Something that made the little box in the back of his mind give a huge rattle. They offered solace and safety.
Before he could even think about it, before he gave himself time to talk himself out of something he knew would only cause him more hurt later, the boy shoved off of the couch and launched himself forward, into a pair of arms that automatically caught him and clutched him close.
Instead of feeling his usual terror and pain, he felt nothing but safety and warmth. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever felt. Even though he knew he didn’t deserve it, he was a bad boy and he deserved the pain and punishment, he couldn’t bring himself to move away. No, he clung tighter, arms winding around Morgan’s neck, his face burying against him. He felt Morgan’s chin rest on top of his head and then he was being rocked just like a child.
It was heaven. It was perfect. Soothing words were murmured in his ear, though he couldn’t distinguish actual words. That didn’t matter. It was everything he had ever prayed for. Everything he could have ever wanted in his life.
Damn the pain that would come later. He would take it, a thousand times over, if it meant he could just lie here in these warm, strong, comfortable arms. Just for a little while he wanted to feel like he was worth something. Like he was special. A thing to be cherished instead of something to be ridiculed. To actually feel like a person.
To hope that, maybe, somewhere underneath the boy, there might be something more than what his Master had made him.
- 9
- 10
- 11
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