11

Spencer was able to get out of the hospital before Hotch. His injuries weren't quite as bad and Hotch still had mild withdrawal symptoms to deal with. He shuddered at the thought. He knew how those felt.

He was afraid to be alone, whether Ogden was in custody or not. If Foyet could break out of prison then so could this guy.

Morgan stayed at his apartment with him for a few nights until he stubbornly told him that he would be just fine.

"Alright, alright," Morgan said, holding up his hands, understanding what Reid was doing. "If you need somethin', call me, Kid. I don't care how stubborn you are, just do it, alright?"

Spencer chewed his lip, nodding. He hated working with profilers.

He had horrible, horrible nightmares that night. He woke up screaming. He curled into a ball and cried the rest of the night, too scared to move, let alone call Morgan. When he came to check on him that morning he chastised him.

"Kid, I know you didn't get any sleep, why didn't you call me, huh?" His tone was harsher than he had meant it, and he regretted every syllable when he saw the tears in Spencer's eyes.

"Sorry," he gulped.

"Kid, hey," he pulled him into a hug, feeling terrible. "It's alright, I'm sorry. Shh…"

He was much better a week later. He wanted to go back to work the minute he was out of the hospital to keep his mind off of things, but Morgan –who was standing in for Hotch for awhile again- wouldn't hear of it.

The memory of what Ogden did to him would never leave his memory, not ever. He was cursed like that. Or gifted, depending on how you looked at it. But he could work, he could still do his job.

He just didn't know how well he would fare with rape victims. "Use it," Morgan said. "Use it to help you do this job better, Kid. And if you're not ready to come back yet, that's alright."

He was. He would do whatever it took to make sure that he could work again. And that meant a psych-eval.

Hotch didn't want anyone staying with him when he was released from the hospital. He wanted to see his son. He had to wait a few days to let the bruises on his face fade to where Jack wouldn't ask about them.

"Daddy!" His little face lit up at the sight of him, and he couldn't help but smile back. He knelt down and scooped him into his arms, hugging him for five solid minutes until he was able to talk himself into putting him down.

"Mac 'N cheese!" The little boy grinned, tugging on his arm and bouncing up and down. He smiled back.

"Alright, buddy, c'mon," he took his hand and led him into the kitchen, at peace for the first time in a week.

It was a different story when Jack went to bed. The silence was deafening. He wished Hayley were here. He desperately wished she was still here. He missed her so much…

He slept fitfully, nightmares plaguing him.

"Daddy, Daddy!" He gasped, sitting up, his shirt soaked in a cold sweat. He looked down at his son, who was clutching a stuffed bear, tears in his eyes.

"Hey, buddy," Hotch said, regaining his composure. "What's wrong?"

"You, you was havin' a bad dream," he sniffed. "Y-you was c-cryin'." He registered the tears on his face and quickly wiped them away, smiling at him.

"I'm alright, Jack. I'm okay."

"Y-you scared me." He started to cry. He scooted to the edge of the bed, picking him up and hugging him.

"Hey, hey, easy," he soothed, rubbing his back. "It's alright. Everything's alright, Jack. It's okay." The boy's arms locked around his neck, squeezing tight.

"I miss Mommy, too," He whispered.

Hotch shut his eyes. He must've been saying her name. He hugged him a little tighter, holding the back of his head.

"Itta be okay, Daddy."

He shut his eyes, afraid to hug Jack any tighter for fear of hurting him. Jack fell asleep in his arms, and he fell asleep holding him. That wasn't the last time that happened.

Getting back to work was different. Strauss had had it out for him for sometime now, he didn't want this to be used as an excuse for her to get rid of him.

He would do whatever he could to pass his psych-eval.

Both Spencer and Hotch passed. They could go back, pending an evaluation from the acting supervisor, Morgan. It had been nearly a month since the incident occurred and while physically they were both alright –save Hotch's ribs- emotionally they were only sub-par.

They couldn't look at each other. No eye contact was made, even when Hotch was asking Spencer something. They just didn't look at each other.

The others noticed. They brought no attention to it. Morgan didn't mark it on either of their reports. It didn't affect their jobs in the least.

They both did just fine. Great, in fact.

However, when J.J. presented a case to deal with women who had been tied down and sexually assaulted before being suffocated Spencer ran out of the room and into the bathroom, throwing up.

"Maybe you should sit this one out," Morgan suggested. He shook his head, cheeks still clammy.

"I'll be alright," he nodded. "I'll be okay." Morgan looked at him warily.

"Kid-"

"Morgan, if…if I don't do this now, I'll never be able to. I…I have to do this," he said quietly, his voice shaking. Morgan looked at him for a long time before answering.

"If you can't, tell me. No one's gonna think less of you if you sit one case out, alright?" He said steadily.

"Okay."

He wished he could be strong, like Hotch was. He didn't seemed to be bothered by it anymore, or he was strong enough to keep his mind and his stomach under control. He felt so weak.

Ogden was in prison for life for two counts of attempted murder, assault and battery, sexual assault, assault with a deadly weapon, assaulting four federal agents and kidnapping, but that didn't mean he still wasn't scared. He was ashamed that he was.

He would be alright. He'd been through terrible things before. As long as he pushed those memories away and bottled them up deep inside where they couldn't hurt him anymore he would be alright.

The jet took them to Tulsa, where the girls were being raped.

He was thankful when they got back to the hotel rooms, where he could be alone for awhile, where he could freak out without Morgan monitoring him.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, feeling the echo of those hands all over his body and trying not to cry without success.

He was sniffling when someone knocked on his door. He quickly wiped his eyes, gathering whatever composure he could and stood, opening the door.

"Hotch!" He said quietly. He was surprised he was standing there. He had barely talked to him since…

"You mind if I come in?" He asked. Spencer nodded, stepping aside and closing the door behind him.

"Something wrong?" He asked in a small voice. Hotch looked at him, his face as serious as ever.

"Are you alright?" He asked. Spencer looked at him, knowing that no matter what he said Hotch would know the truth. He sat back in the place he had been before. Hotch sat in the chair at the desk across frm him, facing him.

"I'm fine," Spencer lied, staring at his hands. God, he wished he knew how Hotch could stay so strong…

"I'm not."

Spencer's head flew up, wide eyes meeting his for the first time in a month. "Y-you're not?" He breathed. Hotch shook his head.

"I can't use my gun," he mumbled, looking down at the weapon in his hands. "I know it's not the one that… but, I…"

"I can't let anyone touch me," he admitted. "And I can't have anything near my mouth unless I'm holding it."

They were both silent for a long time, each staring at their hands.

Spencer jumped when Hotch suddenly threw the gun to the ground before burying his face in his hands.

"Maybe I shouldn't be here," he breathed. "Maybe Strauss is right…" Spencer wondered if he forgot he was sitting there.

"Hotch…if you shouldn't be here then I really shouldn't be here," he choked.

"Why?" He asked, looking up at him. He laughed ruefully.

"Because I…I'm in worse shape than you are," he said, cursing himself for those damned tears. "I mean, look at me." He turned his eyes back to the floor, wincing when a tear fell to the carpet.

He jumped when Hotch touched his shoulder.

"I think we should try and help each other instead of ignore each other, Reid," he said, his voice breaking a little. He hugged the younger man, and Spencer hugged him back.

They both were locked in a prison of inner agony. But they could help each other. And they were the only ones that could get the other out. It wouldn't be easy, and it wouldn't be quick, but they could do it.

Because they refused to let that son of a bitch win.

END

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