Post-ep 12X17, In the Dark

What If

Even as he held the towel against the young man's bleeding throat, even as he screamed for help, even in that moment of panic, Reid flashed back. There had been another time, another young man bleeding out, another desperate plea for help, ten years ago. Another time that he couldn't know the guilt or innocence of the person whose life's blood had coated his hands.

He couldn't know if Luis Delgado was the innocent he claimed to be. He could only know that Spencer Reid was, and that he fervently wished he would remain so.

A decade ago, it had seemed like eons until help had arrived, though he'd been told it had actually been only six minutes. Six minutes of feeling a life oozing out of his grasp, thankfully punctuated by the arrival of those who could actually save that life. This day, who knew how long it would be? Who would value the life of a prisoner, save the prisoner….and the one trying to save him?

Reid's hands were beginning to cramp as he held the towel in place with renewed pressure, trying to find just the right position to stem the flow of blood without crushing the young man's larynx.

Images and thoughts raced through his brain

They say you relive your whole life in the moment of your death. What happens in the moment of someone else's?

Maybe because it had been Garcia with him that night ten years ago, but hers was the first face that flashed into his mind. She'd been his most recent visitor, and he remembered every word of their conversation.

"Eeee! Oh, my God, I'm so happy to..….oh, my God, what happened? What happened to you?" Hands to her chest. "You're hurt! Did someone hurt you?! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!"

He'd had to wave her down, concerned that others would pick up on the tone of panic in her voice.

"It's all right, Garcia. I'm all right. Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it?! That's all I do is worry! I worry about what this is going to do to my poor sweet boo, I worry about what if we can't get you out, I worry about….this!" Gesturing to his face. "I worry about all of you, all of the time! That's my specialty, it's what I do…I worry!"

Sneaking a few glances around the room, Reid was relieved to see the other inmates each engaged in their own conversations. But not so the guard, whose attention seemed to have been drawn by Penelope.

Reid lowered his voice to a whisper, demonstrating what he wanted her to do.

"Please keep your voice down. It's not good to attract attention here."

Realizing he was speaking those words to someone whose daily attire and demeanor virtually cried out for it.

"But…"

"Please. I'm all right. It looks worse than it is, just because the hemoglobin is breaking down to biliverdin. And I guess some of it has already gotten as far as bilirubin."

She blinked at him, not following.

"What are you saying?"

"That's what happens to the blood under the skin. It's why bruises go from red to purple to green to yellow."

She stared at him, catching on. "That takes time, doesn't it?"

"It varies. On the face, it's faster, because the skin is thinner."

Wondering why she wanted to prolong the science lesson. A moment later, he understood.

"So…this happened only a few days ago? Did it happen before JJ was here? Because she didn't…."

"No! And please don't tell her about it!" He'd seen JJ break down at the end of their visit. "Please don't tell anyone! I don't want them to worry."

"My dear, sweet, genius, who seems to have lost his mind….we're all worried! It's too late….we all love you, and we're all worried about you! But don't you worry….I'm going to call the warden and tell him about this…."

"NO!" Realizing, too late, that he was shouting. Getting himself back under control, he pleaded his case. "It will only make it worse. I told you, I'm all right. I've been beaten up before. I can take it. Going to the warden will only force him to come down on the guards. And …."

And they'll come down on me.

He hadn't been off the prison bus a full minute before it had become clear to him that he couldn't trust the guards. And he was at their mercy.

"But….tell me, what can I do?"

"Tell me about the case...my case. Have you made any progress? Is Fiona's investigator working with you, or on his own?"

"Oh, no, don't you try to change the subject. I want to know what I can do to keep you safe."

At the time, it didn't even occur to him that she might have been deflecting.

"I'll be okay. It helps to have friends, and I've got a couple, Luis Delgado and Calvin Shaw. Shaw actually helped get me moved into a cell instead of on a cot."

"Ooh, what, is he like some sort of prison mob boss?"

"He's a fed."

"Really? Another fed?"

Making a mental note to research the name as soon as she got back to her electronic babies. She felt a bit naked here, in prison, with nary a beepable object on her person.

Reid nodded. "I'll be okay. How is everyone else? How's JJ? She was ….she was upset, when she left."

"She's still upset, my love. Her best friend is in prison, and she's in pain for as long as that goes on. She's scared, and she doesn't want to see you….. like this."

Gesturing toward his face, her voice breaking.

"Which is why you can't tell her. Please, Garcia, I've burdened her enough, with my mom. Please don't tell her about this."

Perversely feeling guilty, because he knew how close the two women were, and that Garcia would be aching for the support of her best woman friend, after this visit. But he had to make the demand. The last image he carried of JJ was of her crying into her hands over him. If she found out he'd been beaten, it would devastate her, and he couldn't have that.

"Please."

Wiping at her eyes, Garcia gave a slow, reluctant, nod.

"All right. I won't tell JJ."

Knowing he would catch on to her specificity, she quickly turned the conversation.

"Jayje wanted me to tell you that she's checked in on your mom every day, and she's doing fine. I didn't understand this, but she said your mom wants you to remember to wear sunscreen. What does that mean?"

Reid smiled. Diana obviously still thought he was at the beach. Thank God.

Before he could respond, the guard called an end to visiting hours. Dispatching Garcia with a small, grim smile, Reid put his mask back in place, and joined the march line back toward his cell.

Nathan's face flashed before him once again, and he wondered what had happened to the young man. He'd kept in touch with him for a few months, but after that, there had been no more letters, nor phone calls. Reid had always wondered if that had meant he'd gotten better, and wanted to leave all trace of that period of his life behind…..or if he'd gotten worse.

Maybe you found yourself in a place like this one day.

Or maybe he was still out there, awaiting capture.

The flashbacks continued. A teenager….a murderous teenager…. gunned down by a righteously indignant father, despite Reid's pleas. A suspect slitting his own throat, again, in spite of...or, maybe, derisively because of.. Reid's pleas. And the image that, in truth, only rarely left his mind anyway. The woman he loved, newly in his sight, gunned down in front of him.

Please don't let it happen again, please don't let it happen again…

Renewing the pressure in his cramped hands, he bellowed one more time for assistance.

"HELP!"

He flashed on his mother, and the last few days he'd had with her. After some very wide mood swings…including one in which she'd created her own bruise on his face, also slowly faded from red, to purple, to green, to yellow…she'd finally found a middle ground. He knew, even now, that it wouldn't last forever…..it couldn't last forever. But he was grateful for the reprieve, however long or short. He'd hoped that maybe he would be released, that he would be able to put this nightmare behind him, before JJ had to deal with his mother at her worst. But hope was draining as fast as was the blood from the neck of Luis Delgado.

"HELP!"

The thought of his mother brought him back to his childhood, a time in his life so jumbled with images that even his eidetic memory sometimes ran them together, schizophrenia derailing everything in its path. Days and nights upside down and inside out, laughing, crying, cuddling, clawing, reaching out, retreating, feast and famine occurring simultaneously. School should have been a refuge from the miasma of mental illness. Instead, it had been its own place of torture and ridicule. Given a choice, he would have opted for the beatings over the humiliation. One could heal from a beating.

The memory brought him back to a few days ago. They'd come into his cell just before lock down, as he'd expected. As he'd invited, not two hours after he'd promised JJ he would keep his head down. He'd convinced himself that he could divert their attention from their intended victim. That they would sate their need for violence on him, and not on Luis. He'd made it look like he'd snitched to a guard. At the time, it had seemed logical, more evidence of what the turmoil in his life was doing to him. Because logic had played no role whatsoever.

He'd been under the protection of Calvin Shaw, whose true nature, and true motivation, he'd begun to suspect. He could have simply rejected that protection, and placed himself at risk of being targeted. Instead, he'd taken it into his own hands entirely, working around Shaw.

I tried to make myself look like I was betraying a secret I didn't even know existed. But I profiled that it had to exist, because of who they are and where we are. And they took the bait. Except..

Except there had been no real reason why they wouldn't just have beaten both of them. There was no prison etiquette that limited thugs to targeting only one of their least at a time. Reid had added himself to the victim list, but that hadn't guaranteed Luis' safety. And yet, it had worked out that way. But, why?

Calvin Shaw was the only one who knew what I was doing. He knew I'd set myself up. He was angry, because he thought me ungrateful. So…he let me have what I was asking for.

And there it was. As Reid had been coming to suspect, Shaw had to be behind the beatings. He had to have redirected the violence away from Luis and over to Reid. Which meant…

He directed it back. He's sending me a message. He's telling me that he's in charge, not me. I can try to maneuver this any way I want, but he'll be the god who decides if it works.

Shaw's message was seeping through Reid's fingers as Luis' body began to convulse. Whether from a penetration to his trachea, or from exsanguination, the young man's brain was becoming oxygen-starved.

He sent them to kill Luis just to make a point. It's my hubris that's costing him his life.

Tears streaming down his face, Reid screamed it once again.

"HELP!"

What if he dies?

What if I've become the very thing I've sworn I'm not? What if I've become a killer?

What if Shaw is right? What if he does hold power over me?

What if I let him turn me into someone I don't recognize? What if I become someone no one recognizes?

What if the only way to fight him is to let go? What if I have to let them kill me, too?

What if I never see my mom again? What if she never sees me? What if JJ has to carry my burden for me?

What if I never see her again? Or Henry? Or Michael? Or Hank? What if I never see any of the people who have been my family for twelve years?

What if they're not making any progress? What if that's what Garcia didn't want to tell me?

What if they're not trying any more?

What if I'm already lost?

"HELP!"