Work Text:
Even though the case that changed Reid's entire outlook on life had taken place over five years ago, he still suffered indirectly from Tobias Hankle on occasion.
On a bad day, certain topics or conversations could trigger difficult memories, which usually just lead to some inconvenient nightmares.
Sitting at his desk in the overcrowded bullpen, Reid took his sobriety coin out of his pocket and rolled it around in his fingers, the ridged edges familiar and comforting. He smiled softly to himself. He'd go to hell and back before he let anything or anyone take this accomplishment away from him. He'd fought so hard for it.
Reid pressed the coin against his palm and squeezed it as a spike of pain surged through his head.
That was the other thing about that fateful night in Georgia all those years ago- the unfortunate side effects.
It's no secret that the human body is not supposed to undergo malnutrition, torture, physical and psychological manipulation, and drug abuse, not to mention cardiac arrest and resuscitation.
Because of the extreme conditions his body had to endure for 48 hours, Reid's body would never go back to exactly how it was before the incident.
To this day, Reid was prone to small episodes, mainly seizures and migraines, ever since his rescue. It hardly took a team of profilers to make the connection.
That seemed to be what was happening today. Reid slipped the coin back into his pocket and brought his elbows up to rest on the surface of his desk, clasping his hands in front of him. He closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands, trying to relieve the burning and buzzing in his skull.
“Hey, Reid. You alright?” A concerned voice called out.
“Hm?” Reid didn't bother looking up, he knew Morgan's voice when he heard it. “I’m fine, Morgan,” Reid mumbled. It didn't sound very convincing, but Reid's priority was to get the pain to stop, just stop for one minute so he could have a conversation.
“Pretty boy, you don't look fine,” Morgan argued, his voice taking on a tone of finality. “I'm going to go get Hotch.”
“No! Morgan, please-” The threat of Hotch's intervention forced Reid to open his eyes and stare desperately at Morgan.
“Reid, you know he needs to know when something like this happens,” Morgan said solemnly.
“What do I need to know?” a new concerned voice cut through, and Reid wanted to hide under his desk as he felt his cheeks grow warm.
Hotch, to his credit, was already halfway down the stairs. His office door had been cracked open, and he vaguely caught snippets of conversation drifting up from the bullpen. He only began listening intently when he heard his name, and when he realized it had something to do with Reid, he was on his feet in an instant.
“Everything alright?” Hotch came up beside Reid's chair, keeping enough distance so Reid wouldn't feel trapped between him and Morgan.
“Yeah, I… everything's fine, Hotch.”
“Kid has a migraine,”
“Morgan!”
Hotch's eyes narrowed in concern. He put his hand on the back of Reid's chair, stopping the kid's nervous tick of swiveling back and forth ever so slightly.
“Reid, do you have a migraine? Be honest with me.”
Reid sighed in defeat.
“No… not yet, anyway. It's just a headache right now, but… I feel it coming.”
Morgan looked exasperated while Hotch just felt tired. It was sometimes easier to talk down an unsub than get Reid to admit when he wasn't feeling well, because for whatever reason he wasn't comfortable telling them after almost six years.
“You should have told me,” Hotch reprimanded softly as he moved his hand from the chair to Reid's shoulder. “Did you take anything?”
“You know I can't. I don't trust myself to-”
“Alright. Come on,” Hotch squeezed Reid's shoulder, signaling the younger man to stand. Reid did, confused, and tried not to sway on his feet.
“Easy, Reid. Take it slow.”
“I'm okay…” Reid dug the heels of his hands into his eyes to try and stop the world from spinning. He heard a scoff, presumably from Morgan, and a sigh near the hand on his shoulder, probably from Hotch.
“You got him?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
The pressure increased on Reid's shoulder, and even with his eyes covered he knew Hotch was steering him up to his office.
“Hotch, I'm okay, I… I can still work, I-”
“You're in no state to be working right now,” Hotch said quietly as he helped Reid up the stairs. Reid opened his eyes, trying not to squint, and was about to argue when Hotch held a hand up.
“I'm not finished. I won't send you home, but you're going to take a break. Lie down for an hour or so, then we'll see where you are. If you're feeling up to it, I'll let you finish the file you were working on.”
Reid thought about the offer- at least Hotch wasn't forcing him home. He'd take what he could get, and honestly, lying down sounded kinda nice.
“Okay,” Reid said quietly. “I'll finish it up later.”
“We'll see,” Hotch corrected as they reached his office. Hotch guided Reid to the couch, where the younger man thankfully didn't put up a fight as he sat down. Now that Reid was away from the prying eyes of the rest of the bullpen, Hotch could see the pain in his eyes that was evidently getting harder to hide.
“Lie down, I'll be right back,” Hotch instructed. Reid nodded, and Hotch made his way out of his office and traveled down the hall to JJ's office, wrapping lightly on the doorframe to alert her before walking in. JJ looked up from the mountain of files in front of her, slightly surprised to see Hotch standing in the doorway.
“Hey Hotch,” she greeted. “Do we have a case? Someone come straight to you?”
Hotch gave a soft smile and shook his head.
“Hey. No, nothing like that- Reid's got a migraine coming along.”
“Say no more,” JJ said as she rummaged around in her top desk drawer where she kept a plethora of various pain relievers. They had done this dance many times over the past few years, so JJ was always prepared for Reid's pain along with anyone else's.
“How'd you get that out of him?” JJ asked, noticing how Hotch had mentioned Reid's migraine was in-progress. Normally, Reid didn't get any relief until he was having a full-blown migraine because he was so bad at asking for help.
“Morgan caught it,” Hotch supplied, making a mental note to thank his agent for that later. “And Reid's getting worse at hiding it.”
“Maybe he's finally realizing it'll do him more good to tell us,” JJ said, exasperation evident in her tone. Hotch's weak smile let her know that he shared her sentiment. “Okay, let's see, I've got Tylenol, ibuprofen, Excedrin…”
“He probably won't take Tylenol. I'll try getting him to take Excedrin.” Hotch grabbed the two medication bottles from JJ.
“Good luck, and tell Spence I hope he feels better,” JJ said with a sympathetic expression as she stood to close the door behind Hotch.
“Thanks,” Hotch began to make his way back to Reid when he heard his name called for the second time that evening.
“How's the kid, Aaron?” Rossi asked as Hotch walked past his open office door. Hotch backtracked to meet Rossi's eyes.
“He'll be alright. It's nothing we haven't dealt with before.” Rossi nodded.
“I know. I also know that doesn't make it any easier,” Rossi leaned forward and gave Hotch a piercing look. “You two need anything?”
“I think we're okay, but I appreciate it,” Hotch assured his mentor.
“I think Garcia's already brought him a blanket in the five minutes you've been gone,” chuckled Rossi.
As predicted, Garcia had left a weighted blanket in the corner of the couch Reid was occupying.
Reid's elbows were perched upon his knees and his hands were rubbing at his temples. The pain in Reid's head must have been getting worse since the younger man didn't look up when Hotch re-entered the room with pain relievers and a glass of water.
“Reid, lie down,” Hotch repeated tiredly as he sat beside his youngest agent. “It'll help with the pain if you rest.”
Reid slowly let out a breath as he clenched the back of his neck, locking his fingers together.
“I hate this,” Reid mumbled, his voice strained.
“I know,” Hotch said quietly. He tapped two of the Excedrin and one of the ibuprofen pills into his palm. “Here. This will help since we caught it early.”
Reid looked up and shook his head at the offered medication, realizing his mistake only after the movement sent the icepick deeper into his skull.
“Ahh- Hotch, you know I can't-”
“You’ll be fine,” Hotch persuaded gently. “I've already measured it out.”
Hotch tried again to hand Reid the medication, and this time it was taken from him without protest. Reid knocked all of it back at once, and Hotch didn't miss the grimace on his face before he reached out for the glass. Hotch quickly handed it to him, watching as Reid drained it in nearly two gulps.
“Slow down,” Hotch warned as he reached out to take the glass back from Reid.
“I can't have the feeling- the taste in my mouth if I'm going to take them- this is why I don't-”
“Reid, I know. It's alright, you're alright,” Hotch soothed, bringing his hand up to rest between Reid's shoulder blades. “I would never give you anything I didn't think you could handle.”
“I know, I know,” Reid took a breath to compose himself, leaning into Hotch's gentle touch. “I'm sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Hotch told him in a low voice, rubbing small circles on his back.
“I hate this,” Reid muttered again, sounding defeated. “It just keeps happening, there's no warning signs, it gets in the way of… well, everything…”
“You and I both know it's out of your control,” Hotch said firmly, and Reid had a feeling Hotch was talking about more than just the headaches. “There’s nothing we can do but try and make you more comfortable and wait it out. You know that.” Hotch bent his head so he could look Reid in the eyes, his brow furrowed in concern.
“We’ve talked about this. It hasn't been a problem in a while,” Hotch observed, trying to figure out where Reid's head was. “What's going on?”
“You mean besides the fact that my head feels like I got clocked by the butt of a gun?” Reid huffed. Hotch kept unwavering eye contact with Reid, knowing he'd wear the younger man down pretty soon with that tactic.
Sure enough, not even a minute later, Reid sighed, blinking repeatedly as he ran a hand through his hair. When Hotch got a good look at him again, he realized Reid was holding back tears. Immediately, his gaze softened.
“Reid…”
“Is it ever going to go away?” Reid whispered, desperation lining his voice. Hotch sighed and wrapped an arm around his youngest agent, drawing him into his side.
“I don't know, Reid,” Hotch answered honestly, not even bothering to hide the emotion evident in his own voice. “I wish I could tell you there was a timeline to this, but healing is not always linear.”
Hotch felt Reid clutch his suit jacket- whether out of frustration for answers or to channel the physical pain, Hotch didn't know.
“It's been years, Hotch.”
“I know.”
“Now they're just calling them psychosomatic.”
“I know.”
“It's not fair.”
A single tear escaped and trailed down Reid's cheek. Hotch gingerly wiped it away with his thumb.
“I know. You're alright.”
Hotch closed his eyes for a brief moment to compartmentalize. Hearing Reid so sad, desperate, and in pain tugged at his heart, but Reid needed to lean on him right now, both literally and metaphorically.
Hotch reopened his eyes when he felt slight tremors under his hand.
“You're shaking,” Hotch commented. “Are you cold?”
Reid shook his head, but Hotch knew he wasn't thinking straight.
“No… um, actually maybe… I dunno. My head hurts.”
“Okay,” Hotch said softly, removing his arm from around Reid and standing up to grab the blanket Garcia had left. Hotch steadied Reid by the arm and helped him lay down on the couch, the change of position momentarily making him dizzy. Once Reid was settled, Hotch draped the blanket over his sick agent.
“I'll check on you in a little while.”
“Thanks, Hotch,” Reid mumbled sleepily, his eyes half closed as the medicine started to kick in.
“Get some rest,” Hotch murmured fondly, watching until Reid's breathing evened out, a clear indicator that he was really asleep.
A knock on Hotch's ajar door some hours later startled him out of his work.
“Oh, sorry, sir.”
Even without glancing up, Hotch recognized the voice and the apology- Garcia was lingering outside his office.
“It's alright, Garcia,” Hotch answered as he closed a file and gestured for her to step into the room. “Come in.”
Garcia's eyes flickered over to Reid nervously as she quietly pulled out a chair in front of Hotch's desk.
“Reid’s fine,” Hotch consoled, answering the unasked question. “He's been asleep for a few hours now.”
“Well, I was coming to see if I could retrieve my blanket and return it to the depths of my lair, but I guess I'll take it back tomorrow by this point,” Garcia whispered. Hotch nodded with a small smile.
“That would probably be best.”
“I wish he didn't have to go through this,” Garcia shook her head with a sigh.
“We all wish he didn't,” Hotch concurred with a sigh of his own as he glanced over at the young man who was still sound asleep, hair ruffled against the pillows. Reid looked so young when he was asleep. Sometimes Hotch forgot he was only 29 years old, going on 30 in a few months.
Another knock on his door almost made Hotch glare at the next intruder- it had taken him so long to convince Reid to rest, if one of them woke him up-
“We're all heading out, Aaron,” Rossi alerted, leaning in the doorway with his bag slung over his shoulder. “I suggest you join us. Go home.”
Hotch glanced down at his watch, startled by the time. The hours had slipped away from him, it was nearly 8 pm.
“I'll get going in a bit,” Hotch replied, tilting his head over towards the young genius who was oblivious to the conversation. Rossi nodded in understanding.
“Call me if you need anything,’’ Rossi offered before shepherding Garcia out of Hotch's office.
Hotch heard Rossi's voice echoing down the hallway as both he and Garcia left.
“See, now what did I tell you? Kid's gonna be fine… well, mortified when he wakes up in Hotch's office, but…”
Hotch quietly shut the door on the rest of Rossi's words with a small smile. He walked over to where Reid lay, still sound asleep. Hotch knelt in front of Reid, studying his face. There was no evidence of pain in Reid’s expression anymore, and that alone was enough to convince Hotch that he had made the right decision in forcing Reid to take it easy. Hotch gently brushed the hair out of Reid's eyes, combing it back to the side of his forehead.
“I wish we could make things easier for you,” Hotch murmured, his hand lingering on Reid's forehead. “We can't, not all the time, but we'll always be here for you.”
As if he heard him, Reid flopped his head to the side, nuzzling deeper into the pillows, trapping Hotch's hand under his cheek. Hotch chuckled in amusement and ran his thumb over Reid's temple, looking over his sick agent with a mixture of concern and fondness, his gaze warm.
“That's a promise.”