A Light on a Hill

Disclaimer- I own nothing in this story except the configuration of words, and I am getting no money from it. The name of the story is taken from the title of a song by Margot and the Nuclear So and So's. This story was written while I listened to their album The Dust of the Retreat on repeat.

Reid let out a sigh of relief as he stepped through into his apartment. Quickly he locked and dead bolted the door, and slid the security chain into place. After nearly three years at the BAU he never entered his apartment without immediately doing those three things. He turned on several lights and moved to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee brewing before dropping himself onto the couch. The arsonist case in San Francisco had taken a lot out of him and he needed to relax. Flipping on the TV he found a movie channel playing the newest of the Star Trek films. Though he owned it on DVD he left it on anyway. It was one of his favourites, due in no small part to the portrayal of Chekov. Reid could defiantly understand what it was like to be a genius often dismissed because of being young.

Reid retrieved a cup of coffee and settled himself into the couch. He kicked off his shoes to display his mismatched socks as he loosened his tie. He was very glad to be home, but at the same time it increased his anxiety. While he was an introvert and did enjoy spending time alone, the last few months had been hard, and being alone had become increasingly more difficult. Lately when he was alone he turned to Dilauded, but for the past two weeks he had been trying to avoid using it. He hadn't been very successful.

After New Orleans he had had very strong intentions of not using the drug any longer, but had only managed to last 36 hours before giving into his craving and taking a dose. Since he started buying his own Dilauded that was not Tobias' cocktail mixed with a psychedelic, he enjoyed the high much more. He had tried to wean himself off slowly, but once he had taken a small dose he usually got to the point that he didn't care and ended up taking more. Already, though he had only just gotten home, he felt his eyes drifting to the bathroom where he kept the drug hidden. He gripped his coffee cup tightly, trying to fight off the urge to use.

He thought briefly about calling one of the team to see if they wanted to go out for something to eat, but quickly decided against it. Though he knew it was irrational he couldn't help being a little bit angry at them. Between his talk with Gideon after the case in New Orleans and his comment likening the arsonist to addiction on the latest case he felt like he had practically begged the team for help, and none of them had responded. Asking for help was not something that Reid often did, but though he hadn't exactly asked for it in so many words he felt like his intentions had been very clear. To be fair, neither Hotch nor Gideon could really do anything about it. If they had any evidence about his drug use, as his superiors, they were required to report it. And Emily didn't know him well enough to really do anything. He cringed at the thought of how awful he had been to her the past few months. He had been taking his anger about everything lately and unfairly turning it on her. He wouldn't blame her if she hated him. But for some reason, though he didn't dislike her, he had found himself often irritated with her. Maybe it was because she had replaced Elle, or maybe it was her light teasing of him like the others on the team did. But they were his friends, and their teasing didn't bother him. Well, not usually anyway. But she was someone who didn't know him very well. Though her teasing had most likely been in fun and was only an attempt to integrate herself into the team he could not help but feel a little hostile towards her for it.

Reid sighed and put his cup on the coffee table. He rubbed his face and again his eyes drifted to the bathroom. He was so tired, but he knew that he probably wouldn't be able to sleep without some help. Even if he did he would be haunted by his dreams. He groaned and leaned back on the couch, and tried to distract himself by watching Kirk meet Spock from the future, but even that was not working.

Abruptly he stood and crossed to the bathroom. He tore open the medicine cabinet and pulled the Dilauded out of its hiding spot in a box meant to hold cough syrup. Not that he really ever had anyone over to his apartment, but he still wasn't careless enough to leave it out in the open. He tossed the box aside and unscrewed the top of the bottle. He held it wavering in his hand. He wanted desperately to just tip the bottle to empty the contents into the sink and be done with it. He had had this battle with himself many times before. Two times he had even succeeded, but then found himself calling his dealer only hours later to replace the drug.

Defeated, he grabbed a syringe from the drawer and used the belt he was wearing to make a tourniquet. He filled the syringe with a large dose, no longer caring about his desire to wean himself of the drug. He slid the needle into his vein and depressed the plunger, then tossed the syringe back into the drawer before releasing the belt around his arm. The rush was immediate, and he slid to the tiled floor, leaning against the wall, and sighed in relief.

He remained on the floor for quite some time, feeling no desire to move back to the living room or to the bedroom. He was perfectly content where he sat, enjoying the feeling of nothingness. After a while he dozed a bit. He didn't know how much time had passed before he heard a knock at the door. It had probably hadn't been more than an hour or two. He tried to ignore it, but whoever it was knocking was persistent.

Groaning, he rolled to his knees then used the lip of the sink to pull himself to his feet. He legs felt rubbery, and stood there for a moment to steady himself. He looked at his reflection and stifled a giggle. At the moment he found looking in the mirror incredibly funny, but he wasn't entirely sure why. It felt somewhat surreal, looking at himself. The knocking at the door became more persistent. He sighed. It was probably was one of the team. No one else ever came to his home. Actually, to be fair, the team never really came to his home either. Gideon had been on occasion to play chess, and Morgan had dropped him off a few times when they had got done with work too late and he had missed the last train, but that was it.

He cringed as his door was pounded on and was this time was accompanied by a voice. "Come on, kid, I know you're home. Open the door."

Reid sighed heavily. Morgan. Of course it was Morgan. Anyone else would probably have given up, but Morgan would be there until two in the morning, still knocking if he thought that Reid was home. Reid shook his head and made his way down the hallway slowly. He hadn't even made it halfway when Morgan knocked again, louder.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Reid called out. He made it to the door and fumbled with the locks, struggling with the security chain. It took several tries for him to be able to slide it free. He swung the door open. "What are you doing here, Morgan?" he asked, not bothering to try to hide his irritation.

"Hey, grumpy much?" Morgan smirked and raised his hands. Reid didn't respond except to glare. Morgan rolled his eyes. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"You've never been in my apartment before. Why did you decide to just show up in the middle of the night?"

"Somebody's cranky when his beauty sleep gets interrupted." Morgan pushed past Reid into the apartment without his invitation. He held up a brown paper bag. "I left the office about an hour after you did and I thought I'd stop and grab some Chinese at that really good restaurant on 23rd and then realized how close I was to your place so I figured I pick some up for you too and bring it over here."

"That restaurant is almost seven miles from here, Morgan," Reid said dryly.

Morgan didn't seem fazed as he walked into the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards for plates. "I got those egg rolls that you like."

"Okay, I see we're just going to pretend that you showing up here isn't weird," Reid grumbled. He followed Morgan as he brought the dishes to the rarely used table in his dining room.

Morgan looked around the small apartment, taking in the well-used but comfortable looking furniture and the many shelves housing hundreds of books and the one shelf that contained dozens of science fiction DVDs. "I can defiantly tell that you live here."

"It's my apartment, Morgan. Was it supposed to look like someone different lived here?"

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "You usually reserve this level of hostility for Prentiss."

Reid blushed and looked away. "Sorry. I'm just tired."

The older man shrugged. "Sit down and eat."

"I'm not really hun—"

"Sit," Morgan interrupted. "Eat." He ordered.

Reid dropped into the chair, looking a bit like a child who had been reprimanded for something. He grabbed one of the egg rolls and took a small bite.

"Why is it that you don't like Prentiss?" Morgan asked conversationally.

Reid looked up in surprise. "I don't not like her."

"I've never really seen you be rude to anyone other than her. She said that you really snapped at her in Huston at that homeless shelter." Morgan's voice wasn't accusing, only curious.

"I shouldn't have done that," Reid mumbled. "I have been pretty terrible to her, haven't I?"

"Maybe a little," Morgan admitted. "Not by everyone's standards, but you are usually fairly polite to everyone. It's sort of weird to see you snap like that."

Reid toyed with his fork, not looking up. "I should apologize to her," he said after a moment.

"She understands that you've had a rough go of it lately." Morgan took a bite of his food and chewed thoughtfully. "You haven't really talked much about what happened to you in Georgia."

Reid fidgeted uncomfortably. "They made me talk to the Bureau psychiatrist. She cleared me for duty."

"You're a profiler, kid. You think I don't know you could pass any psychological test they can throw at you? And I'm not saying that you shouldn't be working. But you need to talk to somebody."

"I'm fine," Reid said quickly.

"How often have you been using the drugs?" Morgan asked conversationally.

Reid looked up, the expression on his face giving the impression of him being a dear caught in the headlights. "What are you talking about?" he asked, voice a little higher than usual.

Morgan pushed his plate of food away and leaned forward, elbows on the table, and his face suddenly deadly serious. "You're high right now, aren't you?"

Reid laughed, the sound slightly hysterical. "Morgan, you- you're confused. I-I'm not-… I don't-…" he sputtered, trying to keep the smile on his face. "That's crazy," he finally managed to finish.

Morgan's face was still locked in that serious look. "I'm sorry, kid. I knew something was going on with you, we all did. I thought maybe it was PTSD. But we all left you to deal with it on your own. We should have been there for you. I should have been there. I should have seen. I'm sorry."

The faux smile fell of Reid's face as Morgan spoke. He dropped his eyes to the table, seeming to struggle with himself to find the words. It looked as though he was trying to decide if he wanted to admit to the drug use or to continue to try to deny it. The internal battle waged for nearly a minute before he looked back up. "Pretty stupid thing to do for someone who's supposed to be a genius isn't it?" he smiled, but it was bitter and self-deprecating.

"Not stupid. Not really smart either," Morgan sighed, his dark eyes troubled. "It's the Dilauded, isn't it?"

Reid nodded, almost imperceptibly, avoiding eye contact. Morgan wasn't reacting to this in a way he had expected. There was no yelling, or threatening. No accusations or anger, only a weary acceptance. "I stole it from Tobias after I shot him. After I ran out I bought my own. I t-… I tried to stop. I really did. I threw it out twice. But I always-… I always got more afterwards." He ran a trembling hand through his hair.

"How often do you take it?"

"Usually only once a day, but I don't take it at all if we're working a case," he elaborated, shooting a quick glance at Morgan.

"Why do you only take it when you're home?" Morgan asked. He was still acting much to calm for Reid to understand, and things that Reid didn't understand made him nervous.

"I-I wouldn't compromise a case. And when I'm working I don't want it so much. And we don't really sleep much when we're out of town on a case, so-…" Reid shrugged. "I don't need it as much when I'm distracted and stuff." Reid twisted his hands nervously, glancing at Morgan again, trying to gauge his reaction. "Are you going to tell Hotch?"

Morgan shook his head. "If Hotch knows for sure he'll have to report it, and you'll be fired. I won't tell him as long as you stop."

Reid looked desperate. "I've tried before, Morgan. I don't think I can do it." He looked so hopeless that it almost made Morgan want to cry.

He didn't. Instead he leaned forward and put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Yes, you can, and you will. You've only tried by yourself before. Now you've got help. You don't have to be alone anymore."

E/N- Wow, that was totally supposed to be something else. It was planned on being a story about Reid coming home right after Revelations, sort of a follow-up to Bot with the Blues, and then it morphed into this. I don't know what happened… I went back and tweaked the beginning to suit this a little better, because the first several paragraphs were written with my other story in mind, but I still feel like the storyline is a little confused. I was planning on making this a one-shot, but I'm not very happy with the ending, even after writing it three times, so I am considering continuing it. I'm not sure yet. We'll see. If you liked it keep an eye out for the possibility of more, but I am not making any promises. Reviews are appreciated!