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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

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Hands were touching him, on his body, on his skin. Spencer wanted so badly to beg them to stop. He didn’t want to be touched. No more, no more. He couldn’t handle any more. He couldn’t handle this. Hadn’t he been hurt enough? But Master never relented. He laughed when his boy begged him to stop. It made him more excited. Turned him on. So Spencer had learned to keep the pleading behind his lips for as long as possible. But it didn’t stop his mind from screaming.
But, no! No! This wasn’t supposed to be happening! He was supposed to be safe! Wasn’t he? Morgan had been here, hadn’t he? He’d told Spencer that he was safe now. That no one would hurt him again. So why were those hands on him? Had Morgan lied to him? That thought hurt so much more than he’d expected. This was why he’d locked away all those memories. This was why he’d let himself be reduced to being ‘boy’. When he thought of his friends, he was hopeful. Hope ended up doing nothing but bringing you more hurt.
Had it all been a dream? His rescue, seeing his friends, coming to his apartment with Morgan and Garcia. Had all of it been a feverish dream? It couldn’t be.
The hands were on him again, pulling him, moving him. No! He couldn’t do this again! It was too much. There was only so much a person’s mind could take before they snapped. He had reached that point. He couldn’t do this!
When the hands tugged at him again, sending the ache in his body to life, Spencer Reid didn’t think. He reacted. His hand flung up, connecting with something with a solid thump. There was a loud thud as whatever he’d hit connected with the floor and there was the sound of water splashing all over the place.
Water?
Spencer’s eyes shot open, alerting him to the fact that they’d been closed. There was no moment of disorientation. No confusion. One look at the room he was in and all of it became clear in his mind.
He wasn’t at Master’s house. Master hadn’t been hurting him.
He hadn’t dreamt his rescue. He’d been dreaming of the torture.
He was still in the bathtub where he’d fallen asleep.
And he had hit Morgan right in his face.
No matter how much trust he felt towards Morgan, or how safe he felt in his presence, Spencer couldn’t stop the fear that gripped him when he saw Morgan sitting on the bathroom floor, one hand over his eye, his face a mask of total shock. The two men were frozen; one with shock and one with fear.
When Morgan finally moved, Spencer reacted on instinct once again. That need to survive had been triggered and he couldn’t contain himself. He whimpered and curled in on himself, heedless of the water that was splashing out of the tub. “Please, I’m sorry!” he begged. Despite how much his brain told him that begging was useless, he wasn’t able to stop the words from coming out. They sounded more like a cry as they echoed through the bathroom.
“Kid…”
From the side of his vision, Spencer could see Morgan lifting a hand. He cowered again and curled tighter. Knees up to his chest, hands over his head, protecting the most vital parts. Tears coursed unnoticed down his cheeks and the sobs were already building in his throat in anticipation of what he knew was coming. He had done it now. How could he have been so stupid as to hit Morgan?
He felt his heart race as air pushed raggedly in and out of his lungs. What an idiot he was! Master was right. He was such a bad boy. Right there was the proof! He’d hit someone who’d only been helping him! Who’d just been trying to be there for him and take care of him. Then Spencer had gone and hit him and ruined everything. He deserved whatever Morgan did. He deserved all of it. He was a bad person. A bad boy.
“Spencer, I’m not going to touch you.” Morgan said softly. The words seemed to ring around them. When Spencer didn’t move, didn’t even peek out, he heard Morgan sigh. There was the sound of movement, like Morgan had sat more comfortably on the floor, and then his friend was speaking again. “I didn’t mean to scare you, kid. I really didn’t. I should have been more careful while you were sleeping and I’m sorry. My intention wasn’t to startle you. I’m not mad at you for hitting me, kid. I’m actually a little glad to see you defending yourself. That’s a positive thing.”
A positive thing? How could he say that? But, he didn’t sound mad. Spencer knew what anger sounded like. He knew the sound of quiet rage. All ends of the spectrum of anger. Morgan didn’t hold any sound like that in his voice. If anything he sounded…sad. Spencer dared to peek out from his arms, looking through a screen of wet hair.
Morgan didn’t look mad, either. His face held the same hint of sadness that his voice had. It almost seemed too good to be true. Could he trust it? Could he trust Morgan’s words; that he wasn’t mad and he wouldn’t touch him? So badly did Spencer want to believe him. But he couldn’t just overcome his fears with one easy move. They had been bred too deep in him. Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t stop himself from hoping once more, even knowing that it would potentially set him up to be hurt so much worse later on. How could he do anything but hope when faced with that sad and caring look in Morgan’s eyes? They seemed to reach out and hold Spencer in place, keeping him from fraying apart.
“I didn’t mean to hit you.” He whispered. Even as he spoke he flinched, afraid he might have stepped too far.
A small smile curved Morgan’s lips. “I know that.” That was all he said. The words held more power in them than if he’d tried to reassure Spencer.
Slowly Spencer uncurled, his shaking hands moving to rest on his knees. With one part of his mind he pushed down the pain that was radiating through him. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
Unbidden, Spencer found himself saying “Master liked to…to sneak up on me. He liked to startle me. It, amused him to startle me.”
A soft sigh sounded in the little bathroom. Morgan said nothing, only watching him with that steady stare, still so full of sadness and compassion. Yet Spencer saw no traces of pity. If there had been, he would have locked up tight. He didn’t want any pity. But, maybe it was because Morgan didn’t pity him, or maybe it was because he didn’t speak…Spencer found himself talking once again. “He, he liked to wait until I fell asleep and, and, he’d grab me or hit me o-or w-w-whip me.” The words stuttered their way past his lips, but he couldn’t stop them. They were sitting on the tip of his tongue, aching to be said. “He hated when I d-didn’t react, s-so he’d do t-t-things to m-make me.”
Looking down at his scarred legs, Spencer felt tears build in his eyes once again. “I hate him.” He spoke so low he didn’t know if Morgan heard him. “But at the same time, a part of me loves him. Simply aches to be with him. I never want to see him again and yet I find myself seeking him out around me, like a dog looking for its Master.” Even softer yet, “Am I crazy?”
“No.”
There was such conviction in Morgan’s voice that Spencer found himself looking up once again. No trace of doubt or worry was on Morgan’s face now. Only strength and faith. The older profile locked their gazes. “You are not crazy, Spencer Reid. I know the answer to this is in that big brain of yours. You may not have all yourself back, but I bet you know what Stockholm syndrome is.”
“Stockholm syndrome is a paradoxical psychological phenomenon in which captives express empathy and have positive feelings towards their captors, sometimes to the point of defending them. The captives essentially mistake a lack of abuse from their captors as an act of benevolence. Eventually they are conditioned to believe that the abuse they suffer is somehow their punishment and they strive to obey their captors to avoid that punishment. Roughly 27% of victims show evidence of Stockholm syndrome.”
The ramble came automatically to Spencer’s lips, slipping out before he even thought about it. When he was done, he furrowed his eyebrows, wondering where that had come from. Other statistics on Stockholm syndrome bounced around in his mind, but he kept those inside. How did he know all of that?
His answer seemed to please Morgan. The older man smiled at him and nodded. “That’s right, Reid.”
The use of his last name startled Spencer slightly. He knew, inside his mind, who he was now. But he was out of practice at hearing a name applied to him. It sounded…wrong. Yet at the same time…right. That made no sense!
A shiver ran down Spencer’s body. The water had grown almost cold by now. Morgan must have seen it because he was suddenly rising to his feet. “Why don’t we get you out of there?” He suggested, reaching for a towel and slinging it over his shoulder. He moved to the edge of the tub, letting their eyes meet once more. Something about Morgan’s eyes made it impossible to look away, though Spencer had been trained not to meet a man’s eyes. “I’m going to touch you now, ok, kid? Just to help you up out of the tub. Is that all right?”
The fact that Morgan asked him, actually asked him instead of telling him, meant so much to Spencer that it brought the tears back. He couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat so he simply nodded. When Morgan touched him, he couldn’t help but flinch, but he didn’t stop him. Together the two got Spencer on his feet, the soft towel wrapped around him. It felt heavenly.
Morgan smiled at him, bringing another towel up to dry off his hair. When he’d got most of the water out, he tossed that towel in a hamper before turning back to him. “Is it ok if I help you down to the bedroom? Just to help you dress and such. If you’d prefer, I can help you down there and wait outside while you change.”
That feeling around Spencer’s heart grew a little more, warming him on the inside. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Even so, his words still came out soft and slightly strangled sounding. “Will you help me, please? Don’t…don’t leave me alone.”
“Of course.”
Morgan’s arm went around his waist, supporting him out of the bathroom and into the hall. No one else was out there but sounds were coming from the kitchen. Gently the two men moved down toward the bedroom. The closer he got to the door, the more Spencer felt himself tremble. The other rooms of the house were nothing. But this room…this room held so many memories.
He couldn’t bring himself to open the door. Ashamed, he stood there and let Morgan be the one to open it. He let Morgan lead him inside.
Automatically his eyes traveled to the bed. Memories seemed to assault him all at once. Shuddering, he turned his head away, not wanting to see it. Not wanting to remember. All these memories were still to raw, too jumbled, for him to want to deal with them. They were out of order and some were still missing. Some were buried in there under the onslaught of the others, yet he knew if he thought he could pull them up. He wasn’t ready to do that yet. Will I ever be ready? Will I ever not hurt anymore?
If Morgan noticed anything, he said nothing. A small part of Spencer remembered that about his friend and was glad to see it was still there. Morgan was the kind of guy who would push you to talk about something if he thought you needed it, but he would let a person have space or silence if that was what was needed. He’d always been good at being not just a profiler, but a friend, depending on what the situation called for. A good combination of the two.
The two men moved toward where the dresser and the closet were. When they stopped in front of the dresser, Spencer reached out, pulling open a drawer. Inside were things that seemed familiar and yet alien. Boxers, socks. Not a single matching sock in the drawer. His hand reached in, brushing against a green and grey argyle sock.
Laughter echoed around the room as Spencer reached into the box in his lap. Christmas lights glittered around the bullpen, bringing a little festivity into the BAU. He couldn’t stop his grin as he pulled out four socks, not a one of them matching, and all of them argyle. Chuckling, his eyes traveled over to Emily, who was beaming at him. “I thought you might like those.” She said kindly. Leave it to her to remember something he’d said to her once, in casual conversation, about how much more comfortable argyle socks were compared to regular.
It was a pleasant memory of a better time. Spencer didn’t see the smile that curved his lips. He didn’t see what Morgan saw; how his features softened and his eyes grew warm.
Stepping away from Morgan’s hand, Spencer used the wall to keep his balance as he opened the closet. There hung shirts, pants, sweaters, sweater vests. All the clothes that had been a part of his old life. Could he put any of them on now? To do so almost seemed like stepping back into his old life. But he wasn’t the person that he used to be. He wasn’t the same man anymore. The idea of clothes seemed so foreign. For so long now he’d been forced not to wear any. Told that they weren’t for pets, but for Masters.
He wasn’t a pet anymore. He didn’t have to sit naked in a basement, freezing. He didn’t have to try and huddle for warmth. If he wanted to wear clothes, he could wear them. No one was going to hurt him for it. No one would rip them off and beat him for putting them on.
Yet his hand still trembled when he took hold of a simple button up shirt. This, too, had been a gift. Touching it brought on another memory.
“Come on, Spence. You need to branch out from the blah colors you wear. This is warm and flattering. It’ll look good on you.” JJ insisted.
He looked dubiously at it. The shirt was purple. Actually purple. “JJ, seriously?”
“Just trust me on this. You’ll look fantastic.”
Silently he pulled the shirt out. He let that memory fill him with its warmth. It was just voices, no images. Still, that woman’s voice, JJ’s voice, touched a place inside his heart. She had been right, he remembered. The shirt had looked good.
Next he took a simple pair of black slacks. Then he turned, snagging a pair of boxers from the drawer before closing it. He paused, looking at the clothes, looking at himself. Could he really stand and dress? There was no way he would go sit on the bed. No, no. The only other option was to sit on the floor. But as soon as he started to sink down, Morgan was reaching for him, bracing him up. “Woah there, kid. You ok?”
Ok? What? Confused, Spencer looked at Morgan. Then realization sank in. Morgan had thought he was falling. Oh. “I need to sit to dress.” He said softly. It felt so strange to be talking so much. Wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be talking. “I can’t stand and do it.”
“Well, why don’t we move to the bed?”
Panic roared to life in Spencer. He felt his eyes go wide. “No!” He rasped out. His hands clutched at the bundle of clothes. “Please, no!”
The hands that had been bracing his arms were now stroking them in a soothing gesture. “Ok, ok. It’s ok. We don’t have to go over there. Why don’t we just stand here and you let me help you? I can help you step into your clothes if you’d like.”
Those calm words were enough to help Spencer gain control of the panic. He used all his will to push it back down again. Silent, he nodded at his friend and received a warm smile in return. Silently the two worked together, Spencer bracing a hand on the dresser for support while Morgan helped him into first his boxers and then his pants. Morgan even helped him pull the shirt on and button it up.
It felt so strange to be wearing clothes. So human. So…wrong. But, at the station Master had said he understood why his boy was wearing clothes. So maybe it was ok. Maybe he wouldn’t get in trouble for it.
Morgan’s arm was around his waist again, so gentle against the welts on his back. “Why don’t we go see what Garcia made to eat, hm?”
Food. How long had it been since he had last eaten something? A small ache in his stomach told him that it had been a while. Spencer looked at Morgan and nodded.

It was absolutely heartbreaking to see how much of a shadow Spencer had become. It tore at Morgan’s heart in ways he hadn’t known were possible. But he pushed that down, kept that locked inside. The last thing Spencer needed was something pitying him or commenting on the changes. Morgan kept those thoughts inside and refused to let them show. He was going to be there for his best friend in any way that was needed.
When he helped Spencer walked out to the dining room, he had to swallow a few times at how small the other man felt against his side. Images of Spencer in the tub popped up in his mind. The kid had looked so tiny. Just skin and bones. Already skinny to begin with, it was obvious that Spencer had lost weight while in captivity. The look was made worse by the marks that were on him. The whip marks that covered him. Scars, peppered here and there. In so many ways he looked absolutely broken.
Yet none of it was as bad as his eyes. There was so much pain there. It wasn’t right that Spencer had that look to him. His pretty boy should never have had to learn that kind of pain or fear. And yes, fear was a big emotion in them. Not as strong when it was just the two of them, but still ever present.
Garcia was just setting food on the table when they came in. Her eyes lifted to them, full of sadness and love. They lit up when she saw that Spencer was clean and dressed. Surprise took over when her eyes landed on Morgan’s face. More specifically, the bruise he knew had formed. For being weak, the kid sure packed a hell of a punch. He gave a barely perceptible shake of his head, telling her not to ask. Later, he would explain it to her.
“I ran to the store while you two were in the bathroom.” Garcia said brightly. “Picked up some essentials. So there’s scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast.”
The look on Spencer’s face as he stared at the food was one that Morgan knew he would remember for a long time. Part longing, part fear. As if he wanted nothing more than to dive right in and yet was waiting for it to be taken away from him.
Morgan helped him toward a chair. “Come on, let’s see how good a cook my baby girl is.” He said teasingly.
Once Spencer was in a chair, the other two sat as well. Almost instantly Garcia started to talk, a pleasant chatter that actually looked as if it set Spencer at ease a little. Just simple things about a movie she’d seen, or a new book she’d read. Simple, inane things. At the same time she served them all their breakfast. Morgan watched Spencer carefully, noticing how hard the younger man seemed to be concentrating. The way those wide eyes would flicker up, around the room, looking to see if someone was going to take all this away from him.
His hands shook when he picked up the fork. Morgan had to swallow another lump in his throat at how awkwardly Spencer was holding the fork, like he’d completely forgotten how to use it. The first bite that Spencer took had the younger man closing those expressive eyes. It didn’t hide the sheer pleasure on his face, though.
That first bite seemed to make the rest of it easier. Spencer still watched, but his movements grew a little steadier while he ate bite by bite.
Garcia still chatted, drawing Morgan into conversation with her here and there. By the time Morgan was done with his full plate of food, Spencer had only eaten a small portion. A child’s portion. Yet Morgan had a feeling that it was going to be like that for a while. Not only was food something that had probably been a luxury for him, but most likely his stomach wouldn’t be able to handle too much at once.
The ringing of a cell phone broke the conversation in the room. Morgan saw Spencer jump, saw his eyes dart around the room, and he ached. He kept that inside, though, as he pulled his cell out of his pocket, checking the name on the screen. Hotch. He flipped it open. “Hey, Hotch. What’s up?”
“I wanted to check in and see how things are. Garcia called me this morning to give me an update on the night but she said that he had yet to wake.”
A flash of guilt came at the thought that he hadn’t even called the rest of his team to update them. He’d been too wrapped up in taking care of Spencer to think of anyone else. “Ah, sorry Hotch. I didn’t think, well…”
“Don’t worry about it, Morgan. You had your priorities elsewhere. That’s understandable. I was just hoping you might be able to tell me how he’s doing.”
“Yeah, just a second.” Morgan pulled the phone away while he rose. He looked at Spencer, locking eyes with the kid. Eye contact seemed to be important for Spencer. “Hey, kid, I’m going to go outside and talk to Hotch for a bit, ok? I’ll be back shortly.”
Panic flashed over Spencer’s face, quickly masked. Morgan still saw it and sought instantly to reassure him. “Garcia will stay with you and I’m only going to be right outside in the hallway, ok? No one will get anywhere near this door without me seeing them, I swear to you. Ok?”
After a moment’s pause, Spencer nodded, his eyes drifting back toward his plate. Morgan hated the idea of leaving him, even for a few minutes, but he hated even more the panic that his leaving seemed to cause Spencer. Without thinking he moved to the other side of the table and squatted down by his friend’s chair. “Hey, Spencer.” At his soft words, Spencer’s head turned toward him, one eye visible through the curtain of hair. “Would it make you more comfortable if I went in the living room instead of outside? I just need to give Hotch an update on how you are and I don’t want what I say to upset you or bring on anything you don’t want to think about.”
This time there was surprise, followed by appreciation. “Yes, please.” Spencer whispered. Then, even softer than before. “Thank you.”
Morgan gave him a warm smile. “Anytime, pretty boy.”
He rose and went into the living room, taking a seat on the couch and putting the phone back at his ear. “Ok, Hotch, I’m back. Sorry about that. I had to let him know where I was going and reassure him I wasn’t leaving.”
“That’s ok.” Hotch said. “It seems like he’s clinging pretty tightly to you right now.”
“He’s pretty broken right now, Hotch. It’s hard to see him this way.”
“I know. How is he holding up? Did coming back to the apartment help him remember anything?”
Shock filled Morgan. Then he realized that, if Garcia had called while Spencer was still asleep, she wouldn’t have been able to tell Aaron that Spencer remembered now. In quick words, Morgan summed up the events of the morning, leaving nothing out. Aaron had put the phone on speaker so that the others could hear as well; Morgan could hear them in the background. When they heard that Spencer was remembering, he’d heard their soft sounds of happiness. When he spoke of Spencer trying to shoot himself, there had been exclamations of pain.
He took them through their talk afterwards, as well as the talk in the bathroom and the bad dream Spencer had had.
“From the way he talks and the way he acts, I’d say it’s safe to assume that he remembers most things, but they’re not quite in order for him yet.” Morgan said at the end of his story. “It’s like they hit him all at once and so they’re bouncing around in that brain of his, all mixed up and out of order. Some things he seems to remember when he sees an object and some he recalls without even knowing that he remembers until it comes out his mouth.”
“It’s a positive thing that he remembers who he is.” Aaron said.
“Are you sure it’s safe to have him there with him in that frame of mind?” Dave asked cautiously. “What if he tries to kill himself again?”
Morgan had already thought this one over. “He said he would try and I trust his word. The Spencer Reid I know has never gone back on his word, ever. He doesn’t say something unless he means it. I have faith in that, Rossi. But, beyond that, I don’t plan on leaving him alone. And I plan on getting him to visit a psychologist as soon as he’s receptive to it.”
The line was silent for a moment. Then Emily spoke, her voice a little thick with emotion. “At least we know he didn’t technically kill those women .That’s one less worry. And he’s opening up to you. He’ll have to talk about this with someone for him to heal.”
“She’s right.” JJ said gently. “I’m glad he has you and Garcia there. Do you…do you think we could stop by and see him? I…I need to see him.”
How would Spencer react to the others coming over? Would it be too many people for him? Would he be ok with them being there? “Do you guys think you could come in pairs?” Morgan asked slowly. He wouldn’t keep his friends from Spencer; if someone tried to do that to him he would flip. But he didn’t want to overwhelm his best friend. “I think too many of us at once might scare him quite a bit.”
Aaron was, naturally, the one to answer. “Of course. JJ and myself will come in two hours. Then, this evening, Emily and Dave. He might react easier to us if we’re split this way.” By this way, he meant male and female. Morgan understood and was glad that Aaron did too. “Sounds good, Hotch, thanks.”
“He’s family.”
From Aaron, those two words said it all. After ending the conversation and hanging up his phone, Morgan thought that Aaron had it just right. They were all a big family. And, as a family, they would get through this together. They would get Spencer through this. No matter what the cost.

AN - I'm in the process of moving this over from FF.net so the rest should be up soon, I promise!
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