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Spencer´s ears are hurting.
It´s 2:04 am on a rainy Thursday. The BAU´s team has been in Doylestown for a little over a week now with no real clue as to who the UNSUB might be. Right before they would have called it a night and headed to the lousy hotel, they discovered a new connection between two sets of information that they now have been working on for over two hours.
Spencer is supposed to reevaluate the geological profile to determine where the UNSUB could have possibly taken the victims. The lives of three young women are at stake and all he can think about is how loud this damn precinct is and how itchy his sweater feels.
The team is shuffling a bunch of paper right in front of him on the table while they talk about the given evidence and its importance. Evidence that might lead them a bit closer to the UNSUB. Meanwhile, the middle-aged captain is leaning over Spencer's shoulder and pointing at different places on the map in front of him and telling him about them and why they should consider these areas specifically.
The young profiler knows that he really should be listening. But all he can concentrate on is the captain's arm brushing his shoulder and his prominent cologne, the itchy paper scrubbing noise in front of him, the buzzing of the lamps on the ceiling and this damn headache that is slowly building up.
Every sound seems unbearably amplified to him.
It´s all getting too much for Spencer. He can feel himself being pushed towards a meltdown. The team is sitting and brooding in the precinct for almost 20 hours now. The young profiler is tired and his clothes cling uncomfortably to his skin. His tie feels like it is choking him. Spencer craves a cup of overly sweetened coffee to overwrite the bad taste of not brushing his teeth for a whole day.
He feels too much at the same time, too many sensory inputs are clouding his mind
“Are you even listening, mate?", asks the captain, Wester he believed his last name was.
Spencer, startled as he was, tried to produce a sound. Any sound to convince Wester that he was listening would do. He didn't want to discuss why he couldn´t listen right now. Not in this overcrowded precinct. Especially because not everybody can or wants to understand that, yes, the lights were too bright and the room to noisy so he couldn´t focus on a single thing being said for the last 10 minutes.
“Are you hard of hearing? Or perhaps just too green to understand that when a superior asks a question you answer it?” His tone became serious and his voice louder and harsher. The other team members stopped whatever they were doing and looked in their direction.
He opened his mouth but not a single sound seemed to escape it. Spencer's ears made a rumbling noise like a great thunderstorm does. The profiler feels like he hears everything and nothing at the same time. All the sounds blur into one. There is pressure building up in his ears like when sitting in an ascending plane.
It´s all too much.
"Step back, Wester.", Hotches voice was calm but icy.
"Why? Just because your precious little doctor can't handle being talked to?" He continued to stand close to Spencer. Although not touching him anymore he can still feel Wester's presence due to his close proximity. It´s too much.
„And why should I step back when he hasn´t even answered me yet?”
“He is capable of more then you think. But I´m telling you for the last time to get away from him.”, the SSA´s voice is now more forceful.
“I will explain this to you once we all had some sleep.”
Wester scoffs and unwillingly steps away.
“We all had a rough time, let´s call it a day. We´ll meet back here at 7 o´clock.” The captain nods and he leaves the room, his man following close behind.
A wave of shame overcomes Spencer. While they should look for the victims, him having an almost meltdown made everybody take a break. A well needed break. Everyone is tired and logically he knows that once they had some sleep everybody will probably be more on top of their game. But he still silently hates himself. What if they would have had a breakthrough? What if instead of finding the victims alive they know find molested corpses just because he couldn’t handle this situation? Because of his bloody disability that he so hates. His thoughts spiral and he soon finds himself rocking from side to side. Not yet a meltdown. He keeps telling himself that.
In a quiet voice Hotch navigates the team. JJ turns off the ceiling lights, so that only the desk lamps remain turned on. Derek closes the door to the small conference room to shut out all the hustling noises from the officers leaving the precinct.
Still feeling ashamed Spencer begins to feel effects. His ears hurt less and the piercing pain in his eyes is now almost completely gone. He´s no longer being pushed towards a meltdown and instead being pulled away.
“Should we leave you two alone? I´m sure one other person is better than four.” Emili asks in a hushed voice. JJ nods.
“That would be great, thank you!” came Hotches quite answer. “You can go to the hotel and rest, I´ll take care of Reid. We´ll meet you in a few hours.”
JJ, Emili and Derek are leaving the room, trying not to make any more sounds. With the whole precinct gone home and only Aron and Spencer remaining, Reids ears finally stop hurting and for the first time in what feeld like ages he was able to breath again. He stops his rocking. Being exposed to so many sensory inputs for this extended period of time has left him exhausted.
Hotch sits down in the chair next to Spencer. Knowing Spencer in these circumstances he keeps his distance until invited into his personal space by the younger profiler. Reid is still feeling ashamed. He knows that he is not at fault for his brain getting overwhelmed like that. It´s the loosing control that scares him. Standing on a cliff and not knowing if something will push you over the edge. To act as if everything is alright, to maintain conversations and handle sensory input at the same time seems impossible.
“Can you talk?” Hotch has a reassuring tone in his voice.
After clearing his throat Spencer tries to talk.
“Yeah. Im so sorry.” His voice is strained, and he sounds as he looks – exhausted. To avoid his bosses gaze he looks at his hands that are folded in his lap.
“You´ve got nothing to apologize for Spence. These things happen.”
“But not to others. I´m holding the team back. If I hadn’t have –“
“If you didn’t connect the third murder to the others we would still be trying to create a profile. Without you we wouldn’t have come this far! You´re not to be blamed for your disability.”
Spencer sights heavily. Why is believing Aaron so difficult.
“Should we drive to the hotel? I think getting sleep will help you recover from that… was that a meltdown?” Hotch´s care for Spencer could be heard in his voice.
“No, but it was a close call. This stage is called rumble. It’s a stage where I still have minimum control and can – if handled correctly – calm down enough to avoid a meltdown. You helped a lot. Thank you. Let´s go.”
“Okay. But we will have to discuss how we can prevent those situations and especially how I can help you during these… rumbles. And you have to tell me how much would be ok to tell the captain tomorrow. I guess he will demand an explanation.”
Spencer just nods. It´s not a pleasant conversation to have but considering everything he realises that the two of them should have talked about it more openly. Having a meltdown is one thing but being in this in-between state can cause confusion in other people who don’t know what they´re looking at.
Both Agents are standing up and start packing their things. That is until Aaron hears the other man speaking in a quite and unsure voice.
“I know that it would be unprofessional, and we are technically still at work and although we are the last ones here there might be cameras and we´re not at home and all but I really need a hug.” Spencer averted his gaze, unsure of himself. Was it too much he was asking for? All worries vanished once Hotch´s arms found their way around his slim waist. Hugging back he let out a content sigh.