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Reid pulled the needle through his arm one last time, his face wincing at the pain, sighing as he did so. He knew he should go to a hospital, that despite all his medical knowledge, his stitches were shoddy at best. Honestly, the thought of infection worried him more than the thought of bleeding out on the floor. He really did want to go to hospital, to not feel the germs invading his skin as he sat helpless in the bathroom, but he couldn’t. He knew something like that on his medical records was a black mark. Not to mention all the lights and overlapping noises.
In his half-conscious state, he decides the next best thing to do is to call Hotch. Hotch always knows what to do, and he would much rather be witnessed, just in case. After all, if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around, does it even make a sound?
“This is SSA Hotchner speaking.” And suddenly Spencer is hit with the realisation that this may have been a mistake.
“Hotch…” he says weakly, breathing shakily through his phone.
“Reid? Is everything all right?”
He wants to say yes, to convince Hotch nothing is wrong, even if he knows he would see through his poorly constructed façade. Instead, he says nothing. He can’t bring himself to speak, doesn’t have the energy to commit to an unconvincing lie. He doesn’t respond, still breathing shakily into his phone. He’s tempted to hang up, but he needs this. He needs to know that someone can hear him. That just this time, someone will choose to help him.
“Spencer… are you at home? Do you need me to come over?” Hotch offers, not knowing if the young agent will even be able to respond.
Spencer sighs. He wants Hotch to come over, but he’s not sure he wants his boss to see him like this…
Before he can even properly weigh the options, his mouth is betraying him.
“Yeah…” he whispers, barely intelligible.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Stay safe for me, okay?”
Spencer manages to let out a small mumble in agreement.
——
Hotch pauses before unlocking the door to the young agent’s apartment. The hallway feels oddly still. Normally he would be able to hear Spencer pacing around, mumbling to himself about all sorts of wonderful and complicated things, sometimes with his favourite shows playing in the background, but never silent. He takes a deep breath as he unlocks the door.
Upon entering, nothing sticks out immediately. Reid’s apartment is well organised, bookshelves line the walls, all organised by category, and alphabetically by author. Looking around, one might have assumed Spencer wasn’t even home.
“Reid?” Hotch calls out, once again unsure if he’ll hear a response.
He hears a small groan coming from the bathroom. One he wouldn’t have even heard if he wasn’t listening for it, but nothing could have prepared him for the scene he was about to walk into.
Spencer slumped against the bathroom wall, barely moving, blood smeared on his clothes and across the floor. On a quick glance, two things stuck out the most. There was the first aid kit strewn across the floor. It seemed in his frenzied state, Spencer had thought the best option was to suture his wound, rather than bandage it. Then there was the razor blade that lay on the other side of the room. Hotch had to have assumed he threw it, as there was little blood in the surrounding area. Spencer’s injuries had been self-inflicted, and he could not believe what he was seeing.
“Spencer?” Hotch let out unintentionally, confused and desperate.
“I-I didn’t... I didn’t mean to” Spencer says, holding back tears.
“Hey, it’s okay Spencer, you’re okay.” Hotch spoke gently, now moving to sit beside him.
“No! It’s not!” Spencer yells, visibly panicking. “It’s too deep Hotch... It’s too deep.” He repeated, his breathing getting notably faster. “And the germs, I can feel them, it’s too much, it’s too deep!” he says, now tapping his temples and beginning to rock slightly.
He knows Spencer needs medical attention, but he also knows that the mere mention of a hospital might just tip him over the edge. Without a second thought, he begins to grab his phone out of his pocket, but before he can get close to pressing the first number, Spencer shouts as loudly as he can with what little energy he has left.
“Don’t!”
“Spencer… I—”
“Please, Aaron…” Spencer whimpers, tears beginning to stream down his face.
Aaron. He doesn’t remember the last time Spencer called him by his first name. All he can do is stare. How did Spencer get to this point without him noticing? It feels wrong seeing him so vulnerable, so completely broken, and he can feel a part of him break too.
“I’m sorry…” Spencer mutters, his eyes staring directly downwards.
“Spencer, I promise you there’s nothing to be sorry for right now.”
“Don’t. I can’t hear you say that right now. I fucked up. Badly. And I’m scared Aaron. I didn’t mean to do this; I didn’t even mean to call you. And now I don’t even know what to do, I don’t even know if I can stand up, everything feels so fuzzy, Aaron, and if i go to a hospital they’ll lock me away and I won’t be able to do my job and I’ll lose everything. You guys probably wouldn’t even visit me, and I’d never see my mom again. I can’t do that to her Aaron, I just can’t.”
It’s then that Spencer sees the expression on Aaron’s face. The mixture of guilt and pure worry in his eyes, the way he can’t even bring himself to speak. Nothing either of them could say would make anything feel better. Spencer flops himself into Aaron’s lap, sobbing as he does so. After a minute, Aaron begins to run his hands through Spencer’s hair, and they stay like this for a few minutes.
“Aaron?”
“Yeah, Spence?” he responds, softly.
“I think I need to go to a hospital,” he lets out, accompanied by a sigh of defeat.