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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
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The scent of food was what woke Spencer from his nap. He lay in the center of Morgan’s bed, wrapped almost entirely around a dog, with the smell of something delicious drifting around the room. He lay there with his eyes closed, almost afraid to open them. Afraid that if he did, all of this would vanish. It would disappear into nothing and he would find himself back in that basement once again.
Your mind could have finally snapped. This could all be one giant hallucination. You have a predisposition toward mental illness, so the chances of your mind suffering a break are actually very likely.
Sometimes facts and logic sucked.
A snuffling sound near his head drew his mind from his annoying thoughts and into the present moment. Then a cold nose pressed against his cheek only seconds before swiping over his face. Spencer finally dared to open his eyes and found that he was face to face with Clooney. If he didn’t know better, he would swear the dog was smiling at him. But dogs didn’t smile.
He couldn’t help but feel amazed that Clooney was there at all. Maybe this means it really is a hallucination. Dogs do not like me. They definitely wouldn’t lay in a bed with me and keep me company while I sleep. But how could he deny what was right in front of his face? Briefly, he chuckled at himself. This wasn’t a hallucination. He knew that. He wasn’t suffering any other symptoms of a schizophrenic break. Though, could a person accurately diagnose themselves with a mental disorder? Wasn’t that, in and of itself, impossible, as the symptoms would cloud thinking?
Another lick to the face drew him out of his thoughts. “Ok, Clooney, ok.” Spencer muttered to the dog. “I’ll stop thinking like that. But I can’t help it, you know.” Slowly he sat up and stretched his body out just a little. The familiar aches and pains were there; nothing that he wasn’t use to.
His simple movement seemed to make Clooney happy. The dog stood up on the bed and wagged his tail. Then he moved, angling his body at Spencer’s side and shoving his head under his arm so that Spencer was left sitting there, his arm dangling over Clooney’s shoulders while the dog sat there, tail still happily wagging.
The urge to smile overwhelmed Spencer. Since there was no one there to see it, he let it curve his lips. The sensation felt so strange; at the same time, it felt good. He turned his head, burying it in the scruff of Clooney’s neck. “You know,” He whispered “There are studies to indicate that a dog actually helps in the healing process of PTSD.” Closing his eyes, he sighed. “I know I’m suffering from that. I’m intelligent enough to recognize the symptoms. Just like I’m intelligent enough to know that it’s not exactly healthy to be carrying on a conversation with a canine. It’s not like you can actually respond to me. Then again, maybe that’s the appeal.”
Spencer brought his other hand up to scratch at Clooney’s ears, still keeping his face buried against the warm fur. He felt safe here. Relaxed. Almost like when he was with Morgan, but just a little bit…more. He kept whispering to him, suddenly needing to say all this. To speak things out loud that he’d been keeping to himself. To actually analyze his thoughts out loud.
“Maybe I’m talking to you because I know there’s nothing you can say back. With the others, I worry about what I say or what I do. I’m always worried that I’m going to mess something up. Even with Morgan. Though, not as bad with him as with the others. Morgan shows me that he cares and that I’m safe. He makes me feel safe. Feel…human. I just worry that, if he knew what was going on in my mind, he might decide to not be the one to deal with me anymore. Not because he doesn’t want to.” Frustrated, Spencer sighed. “I’m afraid he’ll think that I need professional help. I know he’d only do that if he really thought I needed it, but I don’t need to be committed. I don’t want to end up like my mom.”
That was the crux of it. He didn’t want to be locked away somewhere, visited only when people had the time, left to spend the rest of his life in some institution.
“I know I’m crazy, Clooney. I can’t handle having men touch me. Loud noises scare me and they hurt my ears. I don’t eat much. I have nightmares and flashbacks. I’m suffering all the symptoms of PTSD. But I don’t think going anywhere else would help. What could they do for me that Morgan doesn’t already do? And now you.”
Impulsively, Spencer hugged the dog’s neck. “You’re such a good boy, Clooney.” He whispered. “You’re the only dog that’s ever liked me. How pathetic does that make me, leaning on a canine for support?”
“I don’t think it makes you pathetic at all.”
Morgan’s warm voice had Spencer almost jumping out of his skin. He hadn’t known anyone was there! Ashamed, he lifted his eyes to where Morgan stood, leaning against the doorway. God. How much had Morgan heard? How long had he been standing there? Panic floated inside of Spencer. Was…was he going to be in trouble for saying all of that to Clooney? Had Morgan heard him and decided he was crazy? Please, please, don’t lock me up. Please!
Casually the older man pushed away from the wall and strolled over to the bed. He sat down gently and brought one of his hands up to scratch under Clooney’s chin. “You know, sometimes when a case is really hard, when it just gets to be a little too much, there’s nothing I want more than to come home to Clooney.” Morgan said casually. He looked at the dog, not at Spencer. “No matter what happens, I know he’s here. I know he loves me, even though I have to leave all the time. I know that, while I sleep, he’ll have my back and keep me safe. He’s also the best listener and the best cuddler.”
Smiling, Morgan turned to look at Spencer. There was no judgment on his face, no ridicule. Just, understanding and compassion. Spencer felt himself start to relax under that gaze. “Come on, pretty boy. Garcia’s here and she’s got dinner ready for us. I was coming to wake you up.”
Dinner sounded like a good idea. The idea of eating so much, so regularly, still amazed Spencer. He couldn’t seem to convince himself that it wasn’t going to go away. That it wasn’t going to just stop. His body told him to eat but his mind told him to hold back; if he got use to eating regularly, it would only make it harder when it was taken away again.
Silently he moved from the bed, coming out to stand beside Morgan. He looked down at himself and remembered that Morgan had stripped him down to his boxers. Instead of terror spiking at the idea of a man stripping him, he felt grateful that his friend had done that for him. Morgan was the type of guy to do something like that. To do it knowing that it would make Spencer more comfortable.
The three companions, dog included, made their way toward the dining room. Dinner was already served on the table, their plates ready and waiting for them. Spaghetti, with garlic bread on the side. It smelled divine. When Morgan pulled out a chair for him, Spencer had to fight from throwing himself down and simply diving in. He carefully sat down, looking around over his shoulders to make sure no one was going to come in and take it from him.
Just as Morgan took his seat at the head of the table, off to Spencer’s left, Garcia came in with glasses in her hands. “Hey, sleepy head!” She exclaimed. “You look like you slept well.” She passed out the glasses while she spoke. Spencer twitched when she set his down by his plate, fighting the urge to bring his arms up and wrap them around the plate protectively.
Just as she took her seat across from him, Garcia seemed to notice Clooney for the first time. The dog was sitting at Spencer’s right, leaning against his leg with his head resting over his knee. Her eyes traveled down to him and a scolding look came over her face. “Clooney! You know better. Out, out! No dogs at the table.”
Spencer felt his eyes widen. He looked at Garcia with panic and then slid his gaze over to Morgan. Words trembled on his lips but he couldn’t make them come out.
“Garcia, he’s fine.” Morgan said calmly. He gave Spencer a look that was full of reassurance.
That had Spencer relaxing. Morgan would make this ok. This was his house; he wouldn’t let Garcia order him about. Sure, Spencer remembered them playing around at work; those memories were clearer now. But this was Morgan’s house and he was the man here. The boss. Garcia wouldn’t dare to argue with him. Convinced of that, Spencer patted Clooney’s head, earning him a look of adoration from the dog’s big eyes.
So convinced was he of how things worked, it completely threw him when he heard Garcia say “Morgan, he can’t stay in here while we eat. He’ll get dog hair all over everything! You never let him in your dining room for just that reason. You’ve always been that way.” She spoke as if she were pointing out the obvious.
Shock widened Spencer’s eyes. She was arguing with Morgan? Oh, he knew Morgan wouldn’t hurt her. That wasn’t the type of guy he was. He wouldn’t hurt her like Master would have. But he could make her leave. He could never let her come back. Spencer didn’t want that. He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to try and diffuse the situation. “Garcia.” He whispered to her. “Please, be quiet.” Then, while she was staring at him in surprise, he turned to look at Morgan. “She didn’t mean to argue with you, really she didn’t.”
Morgan looked at him kindly. “She did, pretty boy, but it’s ok. Don’t worry; it’s ok if she argues with me. Part of what I love about her so much. She won’t get in trouble for it, I promise.” When Spencer relaxed, apparently visibly because Morgan gave him a soft nod, the older man turned to look at Garcia. “As for you, Clooney is welcome wherever he wants. Plus, I doubt you’d get him to let go of Spencer right now anyways. He’s been glued to him ever since he came home. Now, why don’t we all eat this delicious food you brought for us, mama?”
Now that he had permission, Spencer awkwardly picked up his fork and tried to eat the food on his plate. He was grateful that whoever had served him had only put a little bit on his plate. As it was, he was worried about being able to eat it all. No matter how hungry he was, he couldn’t handle too much food, neither physically or mentally. But he silently dug into the food, telling himself that it was necessary. At the same time, in the back of his mind, a little voice told him to eat before he upset the head of household. He didn’t notice when his other arm came up, curling protectively around his plate, creating a little shield around his food.
CMCM
Morgan couldn’t help but watch Spencer as the younger man ate. It was both a wonderful experience—the kid was actually putting food into his system!—and a horrifying experience—Spencer barely managed to use his fork to gather his food and he constantly watched as if he was waiting for the moment it would all be taken away. It was the same way each time he ate. Which, in the past few days, hadn’t been often. Or at least, not as often as Morgan would have liked. But he understood they had to take it slow. Spencer’s body just wasn’t ready to take in a lot of food.
He and Garcia spoke while they ate, chatting about people at the office. They had an unspoken understanding not to ruin mealtime with things that could be upsetting. So they tried to pick subjects that were safe. Garcia talked about Kevin and the date he wanted to take her on soon. Morgan discussed his family, talking about calling them soon and seeing how they were doing.
When they were done eating, Spencer stopped as well, his hands folding into his lap. Morgan tried to hold in the sigh that wanted to rise up. “Pretty boy, if you’re still hungry, go ahead and eat.” He told him gently. “Just cause we’re done doesn’t mean you have to be.”
“I’m full, thank you.”
The only way he could see to get Spencer to eat more would be to tell him to and let him take it as an order and that was something that Morgan refused to do. So he silently helped Garcia clear the rest of the table. Once the dishes were put into the sink, Morgan noticed that Spencer seemed to be drooping in his seat a little. His head had bowed down some and it didn’t look like it was from shyness or fear. He looked tuckered out.
“Wow, someone looks tired again.” Garcia whispered to him. They watched from the kitchen as Spencer fought to lift his head back up.
This time Morgan did sigh. “He sleeps, but it’s not deeply. Since I brought Clooney home, it’s been nightmare free, but it wasn’t before. His body and mind have been through a lot. Plus, after today, he’s probably more mentally drained than anything else.”
“Well why don’t you go take him to bed? I’ll wash the dishes and then put a movie on, if you don’t mind my sleeping over.”
He turned to kiss her cheek. “Not at all, baby girl. You know that. You’re always welcome here.” With a smile, he moved over to squat beside Spencer. “Hey, sugar. You want to help me take Clooney out? Then I thought we could go lay down in the bedroom for a while. Maybe watch a movie or read until we fall asleep.”
The look Spencer gave him, a hint of happiness and something else that Morgan couldn’t—wouldn’t—read.
Rising to his feet, Morgan held a hand out to Spencer. Neither said anything at the younger man took it and rose to his feet. Together, they took Clooney to the backyard.
CMCM
The two men got through the night, though Spencer woke three different times from nightmares. Each time Morgan and Clooney both were there, cuddling up on either side of him to help soothe him back down. The younger man cried each time; his eyes squeezed shut, his face buried against Morgan’s chest. It was heartbreaking for Morgan to watch. To see the trembles that ran down the thin body. To watch as Spencer looked so terrified in that instant that he woke up.
But they made it through the night and rose together in the morning to the smell of Garcia making pancakes. All it took Morgan was one look at Spencer’s face to see that this meal was just too much for the kid. “Hey, why don’t you get a bath while I join Garcia for breakfast?” Morgan suggested as they stood in the bedroom.
He saw the small panic that leapt into Spencer’s eyes and tried to resist rushing over and wrapping him up tight. When he hadn’t been able to sleep, Morgan had sat in the bed, cradling Spencer in his arms. He’d thought about ways he could help Spencer regain some of his independence. It was going to be a slow going process and it was going to have to start out little, but it was necessary.
“You can keep the bathroom door open, sugar.” Morgan tried to keep his voice supportive and caring. He wanted Spencer to know that he thought he was strong enough to do this. “I can prep the water for you, if you want. And Clooney can stay if he wants. I just thought you might be tired of having to be helped.”
The idea looked to surprise Spencer and then to please him. “Thank you.” He muttered. “I…I’d like that.”
God it was good to hear the kid voice his feelings on something, even if it was in a shy and hesitant way. Morgan smiled widely. “Ok, come on then, kid.”
They headed into the bathroom, where Morgan prepared the bathwater for his friend. He knew that Spencer could do it on his own, but a part of Morgan worried that the kid would get it too hot or too cold. Not because he wasn’t intelligent enough to handle bathwater. No, because he was afraid that this might have been something else Vincent had trained him in. So Morgan solved that problem before it got the chance to be a problem.
While the tub filled up, Morgan showed Spencer the new items on the counter that Garcia had brought over. “This blue brush here, Garcia brought for you so you can brush your teeth. You know where the toothpaste and such is. Just help yourself to my shampoos and such, pretty boy. I don’t mind share. If you need any help, call me, ok? I’ll just be in the dining room.”
“Ok, Morgan.”
“All right then.” How sad was it that the kid looked so excited at the prospect of a bath? Or a toothbrush? Reaching over, Morgan shut the water off. “There you go. Go ahead and hop in.” He scooted around Spencer, moving toward the door. Spencer was already shucking his boxers off and climbing into the tub.
That had been the biggest surprise of all for Morgan; seeing Spencer’s complete and utter disregard for his state of undress. He didn’t really care who saw him naked. He didn’t care who saw him in boxers. At one point in time, Spencer would have blushed straight down to his roots if he’d even had to take his shirt off around anyone. Now, that embarrassment was just another thing to add to the list of what Vincent had stolen from him.
When Morgan left the bathroom he deliberately left the door open wide, just as he’d promised. Then he headed down the hall to the dining room where Garcia was just setting pancakes on the table. “Morning, hot stuff.” She said with a wink, plucking out her headphones with one hand. Apparently she’d been listening to her iPod while cooking. “Where’s the wee wonder?”
“He’s taking a bath right now.” He gave an appreciative sniff to the air before he took his seat. “You make great food, mama, but I don’t think he’s up for three squares a day yet. It’s gotta be gradual.”
“Well, more for us then.”
“Amen to that.”
The two sat down, digging in to their late breakfast. A glance at the clock showed Morgan that it was already nine thirty. Well, shit. Aaron was going to arrive any time now. Knowing him, he’d end up being early. He always was. He must have made some sound because Garcia suddenly asked him “What is it, Morgan?”
“Oh, I just realized we got a late start. Hotch is supposed to get here in fifteen minutes so we can get ready to go see Cindy.”
“Hotch is going with you?”
Grinning, Morgan took his last bite. “Yeah. We’re gonna hang out with Hotch today. I forgot I told you we were going but not that he was coming too. You still sure you’ll be ok here by yourself today?” As he spoke he rose, taking his plate to the sink. When the two had been up before Spencer had woke they’d talked about the days plans and Morgan had told her about going to the hospital to see Cindy.
Garcia had surprised him when she said she’d stay at the house with Clooney. She smiled at him now, bringing her own plate over to the sink. “Of course. I’ll throw some laundry in, pick things up a little. Help out.”
“You don’t need to clean my house, baby girl.”
“I know.” She bumped their shoulders together. “But I want to help. All of us do. If this is how I can help, well, it’s the least I can do.”
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Morgan jogged over, drying his hands off on a kitchen towel as he did .When he opened the door he found his boss standing on the other side, a corner of his mouth quirked. “Dishes?” The older man asked.
Looking at the towel in his hands, then back up at his friend, Morgan gave up and just grinned. “Just my breakfast plate.” He stepped back, holding the door open wide. “Come on in, Hotch. Kid’s just finishing up taking a bath so we should be ready to go shortly.”
“Not a problem. I’m in no rush today.”
After closing the door, Morgan led Aaron into the kitchen where Garcia was setting three mugs down on the counter. “Coffee, anyone?” she offered. Both men accepted.
They had just leaned against the counter to start talking when the sound of nails clacking on the floor had Morgan looking up, expecting to see his dog. He saw Clooney all right. Then he saw Spencer. The younger man was shuffling in a way that suggested his sore body was bothering him, a bath towel in his hand, and absolutely nothing else on.
Garcia gave a small squeak of surprise before turning her back on them, facing the sink. Aaron’s eyebrows shot up and Morgan thought that his mouth might have dropped open behind the cup as well. It was the most shocked he’d ever seen the Unit chief.
“Hello, Hotch.” Spencer said cautiously. It was the same nervous voice he used on anyone that wasn’t Morgan.
“Um, hello, Reid.” Aaron stammered out.
Humor replaced shock, tickling the back of Morgan’s throat. He tried to restrain it as he walked toward his friend. “What’s up, pretty boy?” he said with amusement.
Spencer gave him a curious look before softly replying “I can’t get my arms to move right to dry my hair. You…you said you’d help if, if I needed it. Right?”
“That’s right. Come on, let’s get you back to the bedroom.” Turning, Morgan grinned widely at Aaron and Garcia. “We’ll be back out in a few minutes, guys.” Then he led Spencer, with Clooney following of course, down the hall to the bedroom. Once the door was shut, Morgan couldn’t hold it in anymore. He braced himself on the door and laughed. His humor echoed around the room, bringing a the smile to Spencer’s eyes.
“Oh, man.” It took a moment but Morgan was finally able to stand up. He wiped away the tears of mirth and turned his grin to Spencer. “I swear, kid. Hotch’s face when you came out naked, that was priceless! I’ve never seen the man flustered!”
It almost looked like Spencer wanted to smile. Really, actually smile. “I didn’t think about it. I don’t really, anymore.”
“I know, kid. But, man, that couldn’t have been any better if you’d planned it. That was the last thing he expected.”
Wither another chuckle, Morgan wiped away the last of the moisture from his eyes before taking the towel from Spencer’s hands. “Come on, pretty boy. Let’s get you dried off and dressed. We’ve got plans today.”
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