Sanctuary - Chapter Fourteen
Title: Sanctuary
Author: drabbles_by_v
Characters/Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, team
Rating: FRAO/R
Word Count: 4,737
Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine and I'm making no profit by playing with their characters.
Warnings: AU, slash, assumes knowledge through season 5.
Summary: A haunted and despairing Aaron Hotchner finds solace and love in an unexpected form: a young priest named Spencer Reid. Inspired by a kink!meme prompt found in chapter one.
Author's note: Has it been five days already? I'm falling behind on my buffer, eheh.
Author's note 2: I swear LJ shrunk the maximum size of their posts. Another two-parter. You can blame LJ if I make my chapters shorter.
Previous chapters here.
Aaron was expecting to experience a lot of things when he got home, but sickening fear when he looked at the doorway to his bedroom was not one of them. He gripped the table for support and felt his heart speed up. He scanned the area. There was a square of new carpet that didn’t quite match the rest, but only because of the age differences.
“Who?” he asked, gesturing, because it was easier than anything else he was thinking about.
“Rossi and Prentiss came over and did the carpet,” Spencer said. He set Aaron’s go bag down and walked over to the spot. He touched the wall. “Rossi caulked over the hole and got the right paint from the complex.” He turned around and gestured towards the kitchen. “Garcia left frozen meals and JJ brought flowers. Morgan installed the alarm and got the complex to change the lock.”
“The alarm?” Aaron asked, and went back over to the door to look. There was an alarm system hooked up by the door.
“If anyone opens it without keying in the correct code within thirty seconds, it sends a call out to local police and Garcia’s cell.”
Good, Aaron thought. He could just picture himself explaining to a very worried and frantic Garcia that he’d just forgotten what the code was. That was exactly what he needed.
Spencer saw the look on his face. “They’re just trying to help,” he said quietly.
“I know,” Aaron said. By all accounts, he should be grateful, touched, anything but angry at the idea of anyone but Spencer and him in their home.
How did he get in? Aaron wondered. There had been no sign of forced entry.
That reminded him of the other thing he needed to know.
What did he take?
“You still haven’t noticed anything missing?”
“I told you, I-”
“Nothing?”
“Isn’t it possible that he-”
“Something is missing,” Aaron snapped, going to stand in front of the couch. He started scanning the room.
Spencer followed slowly. “It was a different MO, couldn’t something else have changed?”
“Not this,” Aaron said. Nothing jumped out at him. He found himself staring at the doorway to the bedroom again and his gaze dropped to the carpet. No blood stains now, but they’d been there. He’d felt them growing. The blood had soaked his shirt and cooled and the overwhelming sensation from the memory, the one that rivaled even the staggering pain, was the cold. Fingers and toes that had gone numb long ago, giving up their blood to save the center of his body and cold, cold blood against his skin. It pooled beneath him on the floor and the carpet became wet and sticky and he could feel it seeping down into the wood, wondered briefly if it would be the way they found him, when the downstairs neighbors noticed the stain coming through, if anyone would notice the stain coming through, and he knew that beneath that fresh new carpet, right below, there would be-
A touch to his hand made him jerk away and raise his arm, sending the other one to his hip to rest on his gun.
“Aaron!”
The startled cry yanked him back to clarity and Aaron stared at Spencer, who was cringing, eyes flicking between his hand on his gun and his face, looking alarmed.
Aaron turned away and raised his shaking hand to his face. Spencer caught the other one. Aaron flinched.
“No, you and me, we’re going to have some fun.”
“Spencer,” he said hoarsely.
“You need to lie down,” Spencer said.
“No, I have to find-”
“No, you don’t. If I haven’t found it yet, you won’t either. Please.”
Only a small, small voice of reason won out in Aaron’s head. Spencer’s memory was powerful. He had doubtlessly searched every inch of the place. Aaron wouldn’t fare any better right now. So he allowed himself to be led towards the bedroom, but he stopped when he saw something on the table. He went to it and picked it up. It was a newspaper article that had been cut out and set there carefully. It had his face and the title, “FBI Agent Aaron Hotchner Attacked In His Home.”
He heard Spencer gasp in surprise. “I’m so sorry!” Spencer said. “I didn’t want you to see that, I didn’t leave that, it must have been-”
“Dave,” Aaron said. “He left this.”
“I’m so sorry,” Spencer repeated. “I didn’t notice it or I would have-”
“It’s okay,” Aaron said. “This is important.”
“Why?”
“It’s important to know exactly what Foyet knows, see every way he’s getting something out of this. It helps with predicting what he’ll do.”
“Surely you aren’t working this case,” Spencer said.
“Of course I will be,” Aaron said.
“Isn’t that a massive conflict of interest?”
Aaron shrugged. “Even if it is.” He was reading the article. The description was starting to make him feel lightheaded. It was too soon, even reading it was making him feel that knife-
Spencer noticed the reaction and took the article away. “Come on,” he said, and continued leading Aaron away. But when Aaron reached the new square of carpet, he halted.
“It’s just carpet,” Spencer said quietly. “You’re safe right now.”
Aaron nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped forward. The ground tipped nauseatingly beneath him for a moment and then Spencer’s hand on his grounded him and his chest heaved with a harsh gasp. His heart was suddenly pounding, his instincts screaming at him to run, run-
He took another step. Spencer stayed next to him the entire time as it took him almost a minute to cross the small space.
He expected relief in the bedroom, but all he found was more dread, more revulsion. Foyet had hid in here and waited. He felt a breeze. He looked up.
The window was open. There was a fan going.
“I’ve been airing it out,” Spencer said.
Aaron looked at him, and then at the bed.
“New sheets,” Spencer said. “The only person who’s touched them is me.”
Aaron nodded and let Spencer guide him to the bed. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his holster and set it on the nightstand. Spencer tried to help him undress but Aaron flinched away, so the other man turned the covers down instead. When Aaron was down to his boxers and undershirt, he crawled in carefully, moving slowly to accommodate the stitches. Only when his head touched the pillow did he felt exhaustion settle over him. Spencer sat on the edge of the mattress next to him and pulled the covers up. He held Aaron’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the back.
“Stay with me?” Aaron said.
Spencer paused, then nodded, and crawled in on the other side.
They couldn’t hold each other the way Aaron craved, not yet, so they held hands instead, their arms touching and Spencer’s head close to his. He wanted to say something but he could feel the narcotics pulling at his mind, urging him to close his eyes, and the way Spencer was rubbing his hand and pressed close to him, finally lulled him to sleep.
---
He woke up alone with the feeling that he had been out for a long time and he felt more awake than he had since first opening his eyes in the hospital bed. He didn’t want to be in a bed anymore so he sat up and carefully swung his feet over the bed to the ground. He stopped there and winced, then gritted his teeth and stood up. The door was closed. He carefully pushed it open and stepped out.
The room felt warm and smelled fresh. The radio was playing softly and Spencer was standing in front of the stove stirring something. Aaron held his arm around his stomach and looked at the carpet before looking back at Spencer. He wanted that man more than he wanted to avoid the hidden bloodstain so he took one step, then another, and suddenly he was past the square and walking to him.
Spencer heard the steps and turned around. “Hey,” he said. “How do you feel? You were asleep for a long time.”
“How long?” Aaron asked.
Spencer stirred the pan once more, turned the heat down, and closed the distance between them, reaching out. Aaron lifted his hand in response, and then a sudden wariness went through him and he drew it back and turned his head. His heart was pounding. He felt Spencer stop, heard him draw back.
“We left the hospital yesterday,” Spencer said after a moment of hesitation. “I thought you’d wake up when the painkillers wore off.”
“Speaking of,” Aaron said, wincing.
“Here,” Spencer said, and Aaron looked back in time to see him pull the bottle out of his pocket. He handed it over, staying an arm’s length away.
Aaron let their fingers brush as he took it and read the instructions. He sighed. “Side effects drowsiness.”
“You could try the ibuprofen,” Spencer said. “See if just that’s enough.”
Aaron nodded and went to get it and Spencer turned back to the stove.
After Aaron had taken the prescribed dosage and the antibiotic he closed his eyes. He could hear Spencer moving in the kitchen and more than anything he wanted to walk up to him, carefully press against him, but that moment when he’d tried-
His pulse was still too fast. He turned around and made himself walk over. “What are you making?” he asked.
“Oh,” Spencer said. “Mint syrup, with some basil.”
Aaron stood at his side, close enough to touch but not doing so.
Spencer glanced up and smiled hopefully. “It’s good in tea,” he said.
Aaron took a deep breath and covered Spencer’s free hand with his own. Spencer turned his wrist and linked their fingers together.
“Do you want to talk?” Spencer asked.
“No,” Aaron said, because what was there to talk about except what had happened, and he didn’t want to think about that.
“Aaron…”
“I’m okay,” Aaron said. He let go of Spencer’s hand.
Spencer tried to reach out again but Aaron took a step away.
Spencer turned the stove off and moved the pan to the side. He grabbed Aaron’s hand and pulled him until he could face him directly. “You don’t need to do this,” he said.
Aaron looked away. “Do what?”
“Distance yourself.”
“I’m not,” Aaron said defensively.
Spencer leaned in and Aaron immediately stepped back. When he saw the look on Spencer’s face, his shoulders slumped and he covered his eyes. He heard Spencer sigh.
“I’m not going to leave you,” Spencer said softly.
Aaron shuddered when the words hit too close to the fear that was lurking in the back of his mind.
“Why would I leave?” Spencer asked.
“What do I have left to offer you?” Aaron asked.
“What do you-” Spencer began, sounding aghast. “How can you even ask me that?”
“I-”
“Look at me.”
Aaron didn’t move.
“Aaron, look at me.” When Aaron still didn’t move, Spencer grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand down and turned his face. “You are the only person in the world who has ever loved me like this for exactly what I am. I’m not going to leave you.”
Aaron looked into Spencer’s eyes. They were determined, fierce, and steady. He cleared his throat. “I’ll try,” he said. It was all he could give right now.
Spencer’s eyes softened. “I’m here for you,” he said.
Aaron nodded.
“It’ll get better,” Spencer said.
“Yeah,” Aaron said.
“Tell me what I can do?”
Aaron tried to smile. “Tea sounds amazing,” he said.
Spencer looked relieved to have a task to do so he set off to start on it while Aaron walked carefully to the couch and sat down. Every movement was slow and deliberate and performed with the utmost care, because he was afraid that with every stretch, he was going to pull the wounds open again. They were healing as much as they could, but they were nowhere near closed. And they hurt.
Spencer joined him with tea and they sat together in silence for a long time while Aaron sipped at it.
“Do you remember that night here? With the fortune cookies?” Spencer asked suddenly.
Aaron smiled despite himself. “Otherwise known as the most frustrating night of my life,” he said.
“Surely not the most frustrating,” Spencer said.
Aaron looked at him. “I assure you,” he said. “The most frustrating.”
Spencer’s smile was embarrassed and pleased. “We’ll finish that, someday,” he said.
Aaron just nodded. He wished he could say that with the same confidence. But what would happen if he never…
No matter what Spencer said, Aaron couldn’t imagine that he would want to stay with a broken man. Much less a broken, scarred man who had a serial killer interested in making his life miserable.
Maybe it would be better for Spencer if he…
Aaron tried to shake the thought away, but he couldn’t bury it completely.
Maybe…
---
Spencer helped him wash his hair in the sink later that night. Aaron relaxed under the feeling of the other man’s fingers gently rubbing his scalp and it was almost enough to make him drift off, but not quite. There was one more task that had yet to be done tonight. The bandages had to be changed and the salve had to be applied.
Aaron sat on the toilet in sweatpants pulled down to his hips to expose the injuries on his chest. He hadn’t been able to look at himself in a mirror, but looking down at his body was easier. The wounds were ugly and red with black stitches, but neat, carefully placed, even in size, and straight. Aaron repressed the gut reaction to close his eyes and made himself get used to the sight.
Spencer approached with the bottle of salve and a damp washcloth. He knelt in front of Aaron and carefully dabbed each wound. Aaron gritted his teeth and closed his eyes against the pain. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, he could take this.
But then he felt Spencer’s fingers on his waistband and his eyes shot open and he grabbed the younger man’s wrist.
Spencer looked up at him. “You need-”
“I’ll do it myself,” Aaron said.
“Let me help you-”
“I said I’ll do it myself!”
Spencer drew away. “I don’t care, I just…”
“Well I do. So get out and let me…”
Spencer looked hurt, but he nodded, handed Aaron the washcloth, and left.
Aaron waited until the door had closed and then let out a shaky breath. He pulled his pants down and looked at himself.
Stiches. Goddamn stiches.
What if he never healed, not completely? What if he never felt again, never pushed into Spencer again, never cried out in ecstasy in his lover’s arms again-
Aaron felt tears welling up in his eyes and he quickly washed himself, trying as much as possible not to look, and stopped his train of thought. He would find out those answers eventually, but right now, worrying wouldn’t do him good.
He told himself that he was just waiting until the right time to cross that bridge.
Even if he knew, in the back of his mind, that he never really planned to. Because he didn’t think he could bear it if he found out he was never able to love Spencer again.
When he crawled into bed and turned out the light, he allowed Spencer to press close to him, to put a hand over his arm, but he didn’t react. All he wanted to do was roll over and push him into the mattress and love him and taste him, but he stayed still.
“Aaron?”
Aaron swallowed until he felt his throat was clear enough to speak. “Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Aaron closed his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek against a sob. “Yeah.”
---
The searching began the next morning. Spencer sat quietly at the table. He obviously knew there was nothing he could do to stop Aaron from this search and until he was allowed to look to his satisfaction, he was going to be on edge.
Aaron started in the bathroom. He took everything out of the medicine cabinet, catalogued what was there, made a note in the back of his mind that it would be very easy to take an old bottle without anyone noticing.
But Foyet liked things to be noticed. So whatever it was, it was obvious, right under their noses, and they just weren’t realizing it. He put the bottles away. He checked razors, shampoo, soap, towels, cleaning supplies under the sink. Nothing.
Next was the bedroom. He moved methodically through the closet, counting the shirts and ties. The drawers were next-socks, underwear, pants, undershirts, all neatly in place and nothing looked out of order.
After he’d examined every corner of the main bedroom he moved to Jack’s. It shared a door with the bathroom that Aaron kept locked when Jack wasn’t there and he noted with a hint of relief that it was still locked. Not because it meant Foyet hadn’t been in there, which he almost certainly had, but because it meant Foyet wasn’t trying to tell him something. Nothing looked out of place, but Aaron still went through everything he could think of. Toy chest, closet, desk, crayons, bed, under the bed, posters… nothing jumped out at him. He felt an immense amount of relief.
After that he went into the living room and he could feel Spencer’s eyes watching him as he scanned the walls. All the artwork he had was there. The DVD holder was still full, the blinds were present… Aaron scowled and turned on the couch and tore the cushions off, looking for-he didn’t know what. Anything out of place.
Nothing.
He prowled around the room, touching everything in sight, searching for anything that looked out of place, new, different…
His search took him to the kitchen and that room took much longer than any of the others. Every spice jar, every cereal box, every can of food was pulled out of the cupboards and laid out and inspected. By the time Aaron had finished putting all of those away and started on the dishes, Spencer had risen and walked over.
“He took something,” Aaron growled before Spencer could even speak.
“I know,” Spencer said. “I wanted to see if I can help.”
“You’ve already looked,” Aaron said, digging through a drawer.
Spencer nodded.
“Foyet likes to have an impact,” Aaron said. “He would have taken something obvious.”
“We’ve probably seen whatever it is already,” Spencer said.
Aaron stopped and looked at him.
“The way the brain absorbs visual information is far less accurate than most people think,” Spencer said. “Because the brain itself tricks you into thinking that you’re aware of everything around you. But that would be too much information to be processing all at once all the time, so we work more on templates, filling in individual details as we come across and use them.”
“So?”
“So,” Spencer said, “We aren’t going to realize what’s gone by looking at what’s here. We’ll realize what’s gone when we go to use that thing specifically.”
Aaron huffed. Then he winced.
Spencer was there immediately, hand on his back. “You’ve been moving around more than you should.”
“I have to finish,” Aaron said.
“I know,” Spencer said. “But let me help.”
Aaron nodded.
So Spencer helped him go through everything in the kitchen, piece by piece, inspecting every cookbook for missing pages, checking every box in the pantry for missing food.
Nothing.
They found nothing.
Aaron would have started the entire search over again, if Spencer hadn’t stepped in and stopped him. But even as he sat on the couch, his gaze never stopped roaming.
What was he missing?
---
Haley called Aaron the next morning.
“He’s been asking to see you,” she said. “I know the visit isn’t scheduled for another week, but, in light of everything…”
Aaron held his breath, too scared to speak in case she changed her mind.
“Can we come over? And you and I can talk?”
“Of course,” Aaron said.
“Will, um, will Spencer be there?”
Aaron frowned. “Yes,” he said. “And I’m not going to make him leave.”
There was a pause. “I’d…feel more comfortable if he didn’t hear our conversation.”
“He can play with Jack in his room.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Do you really want Jack hearing our conversation, either?”
“No,” she said, then sighed. “I’ll be there in about half an hour.”
“We’ll see you then,” Aaron said.
Spencer came out of the bedroom as Aaron hung up. “Haley?” he guessed.
“Yeah,” Aaron said. “We’re going to talk.”
“Now?”
Aaron sighed. “When else?”
Spencer nodded.
“Can you watch Jack for us?”
Spencer smiled but looked a little uncertain. “She’ll let me?”
“She isn’t going to have much of a choice once he drags you away.”
---
True to his prediction...
Author: drabbles_by_v
Characters/Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, team
Rating: FRAO/R
Word Count: 4,737
Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine and I'm making no profit by playing with their characters.
Warnings: AU, slash, assumes knowledge through season 5.
Summary: A haunted and despairing Aaron Hotchner finds solace and love in an unexpected form: a young priest named Spencer Reid. Inspired by a kink!meme prompt found in chapter one.
Author's note: Has it been five days already? I'm falling behind on my buffer, eheh.
Author's note 2: I swear LJ shrunk the maximum size of their posts. Another two-parter. You can blame LJ if I make my chapters shorter.
Previous chapters here.
Aaron was expecting to experience a lot of things when he got home, but sickening fear when he looked at the doorway to his bedroom was not one of them. He gripped the table for support and felt his heart speed up. He scanned the area. There was a square of new carpet that didn’t quite match the rest, but only because of the age differences.
“Who?” he asked, gesturing, because it was easier than anything else he was thinking about.
“Rossi and Prentiss came over and did the carpet,” Spencer said. He set Aaron’s go bag down and walked over to the spot. He touched the wall. “Rossi caulked over the hole and got the right paint from the complex.” He turned around and gestured towards the kitchen. “Garcia left frozen meals and JJ brought flowers. Morgan installed the alarm and got the complex to change the lock.”
“The alarm?” Aaron asked, and went back over to the door to look. There was an alarm system hooked up by the door.
“If anyone opens it without keying in the correct code within thirty seconds, it sends a call out to local police and Garcia’s cell.”
Good, Aaron thought. He could just picture himself explaining to a very worried and frantic Garcia that he’d just forgotten what the code was. That was exactly what he needed.
Spencer saw the look on his face. “They’re just trying to help,” he said quietly.
“I know,” Aaron said. By all accounts, he should be grateful, touched, anything but angry at the idea of anyone but Spencer and him in their home.
How did he get in? Aaron wondered. There had been no sign of forced entry.
That reminded him of the other thing he needed to know.
What did he take?
“You still haven’t noticed anything missing?”
“I told you, I-”
“Nothing?”
“Isn’t it possible that he-”
“Something is missing,” Aaron snapped, going to stand in front of the couch. He started scanning the room.
Spencer followed slowly. “It was a different MO, couldn’t something else have changed?”
“Not this,” Aaron said. Nothing jumped out at him. He found himself staring at the doorway to the bedroom again and his gaze dropped to the carpet. No blood stains now, but they’d been there. He’d felt them growing. The blood had soaked his shirt and cooled and the overwhelming sensation from the memory, the one that rivaled even the staggering pain, was the cold. Fingers and toes that had gone numb long ago, giving up their blood to save the center of his body and cold, cold blood against his skin. It pooled beneath him on the floor and the carpet became wet and sticky and he could feel it seeping down into the wood, wondered briefly if it would be the way they found him, when the downstairs neighbors noticed the stain coming through, if anyone would notice the stain coming through, and he knew that beneath that fresh new carpet, right below, there would be-
A touch to his hand made him jerk away and raise his arm, sending the other one to his hip to rest on his gun.
“Aaron!”
The startled cry yanked him back to clarity and Aaron stared at Spencer, who was cringing, eyes flicking between his hand on his gun and his face, looking alarmed.
Aaron turned away and raised his shaking hand to his face. Spencer caught the other one. Aaron flinched.
“No, you and me, we’re going to have some fun.”
“Spencer,” he said hoarsely.
“You need to lie down,” Spencer said.
“No, I have to find-”
“No, you don’t. If I haven’t found it yet, you won’t either. Please.”
Only a small, small voice of reason won out in Aaron’s head. Spencer’s memory was powerful. He had doubtlessly searched every inch of the place. Aaron wouldn’t fare any better right now. So he allowed himself to be led towards the bedroom, but he stopped when he saw something on the table. He went to it and picked it up. It was a newspaper article that had been cut out and set there carefully. It had his face and the title, “FBI Agent Aaron Hotchner Attacked In His Home.”
He heard Spencer gasp in surprise. “I’m so sorry!” Spencer said. “I didn’t want you to see that, I didn’t leave that, it must have been-”
“Dave,” Aaron said. “He left this.”
“I’m so sorry,” Spencer repeated. “I didn’t notice it or I would have-”
“It’s okay,” Aaron said. “This is important.”
“Why?”
“It’s important to know exactly what Foyet knows, see every way he’s getting something out of this. It helps with predicting what he’ll do.”
“Surely you aren’t working this case,” Spencer said.
“Of course I will be,” Aaron said.
“Isn’t that a massive conflict of interest?”
Aaron shrugged. “Even if it is.” He was reading the article. The description was starting to make him feel lightheaded. It was too soon, even reading it was making him feel that knife-
Spencer noticed the reaction and took the article away. “Come on,” he said, and continued leading Aaron away. But when Aaron reached the new square of carpet, he halted.
“It’s just carpet,” Spencer said quietly. “You’re safe right now.”
Aaron nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped forward. The ground tipped nauseatingly beneath him for a moment and then Spencer’s hand on his grounded him and his chest heaved with a harsh gasp. His heart was suddenly pounding, his instincts screaming at him to run, run-
He took another step. Spencer stayed next to him the entire time as it took him almost a minute to cross the small space.
He expected relief in the bedroom, but all he found was more dread, more revulsion. Foyet had hid in here and waited. He felt a breeze. He looked up.
The window was open. There was a fan going.
“I’ve been airing it out,” Spencer said.
Aaron looked at him, and then at the bed.
“New sheets,” Spencer said. “The only person who’s touched them is me.”
Aaron nodded and let Spencer guide him to the bed. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his holster and set it on the nightstand. Spencer tried to help him undress but Aaron flinched away, so the other man turned the covers down instead. When Aaron was down to his boxers and undershirt, he crawled in carefully, moving slowly to accommodate the stitches. Only when his head touched the pillow did he felt exhaustion settle over him. Spencer sat on the edge of the mattress next to him and pulled the covers up. He held Aaron’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the back.
“Stay with me?” Aaron said.
Spencer paused, then nodded, and crawled in on the other side.
They couldn’t hold each other the way Aaron craved, not yet, so they held hands instead, their arms touching and Spencer’s head close to his. He wanted to say something but he could feel the narcotics pulling at his mind, urging him to close his eyes, and the way Spencer was rubbing his hand and pressed close to him, finally lulled him to sleep.
---
He woke up alone with the feeling that he had been out for a long time and he felt more awake than he had since first opening his eyes in the hospital bed. He didn’t want to be in a bed anymore so he sat up and carefully swung his feet over the bed to the ground. He stopped there and winced, then gritted his teeth and stood up. The door was closed. He carefully pushed it open and stepped out.
The room felt warm and smelled fresh. The radio was playing softly and Spencer was standing in front of the stove stirring something. Aaron held his arm around his stomach and looked at the carpet before looking back at Spencer. He wanted that man more than he wanted to avoid the hidden bloodstain so he took one step, then another, and suddenly he was past the square and walking to him.
Spencer heard the steps and turned around. “Hey,” he said. “How do you feel? You were asleep for a long time.”
“How long?” Aaron asked.
Spencer stirred the pan once more, turned the heat down, and closed the distance between them, reaching out. Aaron lifted his hand in response, and then a sudden wariness went through him and he drew it back and turned his head. His heart was pounding. He felt Spencer stop, heard him draw back.
“We left the hospital yesterday,” Spencer said after a moment of hesitation. “I thought you’d wake up when the painkillers wore off.”
“Speaking of,” Aaron said, wincing.
“Here,” Spencer said, and Aaron looked back in time to see him pull the bottle out of his pocket. He handed it over, staying an arm’s length away.
Aaron let their fingers brush as he took it and read the instructions. He sighed. “Side effects drowsiness.”
“You could try the ibuprofen,” Spencer said. “See if just that’s enough.”
Aaron nodded and went to get it and Spencer turned back to the stove.
After Aaron had taken the prescribed dosage and the antibiotic he closed his eyes. He could hear Spencer moving in the kitchen and more than anything he wanted to walk up to him, carefully press against him, but that moment when he’d tried-
His pulse was still too fast. He turned around and made himself walk over. “What are you making?” he asked.
“Oh,” Spencer said. “Mint syrup, with some basil.”
Aaron stood at his side, close enough to touch but not doing so.
Spencer glanced up and smiled hopefully. “It’s good in tea,” he said.
Aaron took a deep breath and covered Spencer’s free hand with his own. Spencer turned his wrist and linked their fingers together.
“Do you want to talk?” Spencer asked.
“No,” Aaron said, because what was there to talk about except what had happened, and he didn’t want to think about that.
“Aaron…”
“I’m okay,” Aaron said. He let go of Spencer’s hand.
Spencer tried to reach out again but Aaron took a step away.
Spencer turned the stove off and moved the pan to the side. He grabbed Aaron’s hand and pulled him until he could face him directly. “You don’t need to do this,” he said.
Aaron looked away. “Do what?”
“Distance yourself.”
“I’m not,” Aaron said defensively.
Spencer leaned in and Aaron immediately stepped back. When he saw the look on Spencer’s face, his shoulders slumped and he covered his eyes. He heard Spencer sigh.
“I’m not going to leave you,” Spencer said softly.
Aaron shuddered when the words hit too close to the fear that was lurking in the back of his mind.
“Why would I leave?” Spencer asked.
“What do I have left to offer you?” Aaron asked.
“What do you-” Spencer began, sounding aghast. “How can you even ask me that?”
“I-”
“Look at me.”
Aaron didn’t move.
“Aaron, look at me.” When Aaron still didn’t move, Spencer grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand down and turned his face. “You are the only person in the world who has ever loved me like this for exactly what I am. I’m not going to leave you.”
Aaron looked into Spencer’s eyes. They were determined, fierce, and steady. He cleared his throat. “I’ll try,” he said. It was all he could give right now.
Spencer’s eyes softened. “I’m here for you,” he said.
Aaron nodded.
“It’ll get better,” Spencer said.
“Yeah,” Aaron said.
“Tell me what I can do?”
Aaron tried to smile. “Tea sounds amazing,” he said.
Spencer looked relieved to have a task to do so he set off to start on it while Aaron walked carefully to the couch and sat down. Every movement was slow and deliberate and performed with the utmost care, because he was afraid that with every stretch, he was going to pull the wounds open again. They were healing as much as they could, but they were nowhere near closed. And they hurt.
Spencer joined him with tea and they sat together in silence for a long time while Aaron sipped at it.
“Do you remember that night here? With the fortune cookies?” Spencer asked suddenly.
Aaron smiled despite himself. “Otherwise known as the most frustrating night of my life,” he said.
“Surely not the most frustrating,” Spencer said.
Aaron looked at him. “I assure you,” he said. “The most frustrating.”
Spencer’s smile was embarrassed and pleased. “We’ll finish that, someday,” he said.
Aaron just nodded. He wished he could say that with the same confidence. But what would happen if he never…
No matter what Spencer said, Aaron couldn’t imagine that he would want to stay with a broken man. Much less a broken, scarred man who had a serial killer interested in making his life miserable.
Maybe it would be better for Spencer if he…
Aaron tried to shake the thought away, but he couldn’t bury it completely.
Maybe…
---
Spencer helped him wash his hair in the sink later that night. Aaron relaxed under the feeling of the other man’s fingers gently rubbing his scalp and it was almost enough to make him drift off, but not quite. There was one more task that had yet to be done tonight. The bandages had to be changed and the salve had to be applied.
Aaron sat on the toilet in sweatpants pulled down to his hips to expose the injuries on his chest. He hadn’t been able to look at himself in a mirror, but looking down at his body was easier. The wounds were ugly and red with black stitches, but neat, carefully placed, even in size, and straight. Aaron repressed the gut reaction to close his eyes and made himself get used to the sight.
Spencer approached with the bottle of salve and a damp washcloth. He knelt in front of Aaron and carefully dabbed each wound. Aaron gritted his teeth and closed his eyes against the pain. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, he could take this.
But then he felt Spencer’s fingers on his waistband and his eyes shot open and he grabbed the younger man’s wrist.
Spencer looked up at him. “You need-”
“I’ll do it myself,” Aaron said.
“Let me help you-”
“I said I’ll do it myself!”
Spencer drew away. “I don’t care, I just…”
“Well I do. So get out and let me…”
Spencer looked hurt, but he nodded, handed Aaron the washcloth, and left.
Aaron waited until the door had closed and then let out a shaky breath. He pulled his pants down and looked at himself.
Stiches. Goddamn stiches.
What if he never healed, not completely? What if he never felt again, never pushed into Spencer again, never cried out in ecstasy in his lover’s arms again-
Aaron felt tears welling up in his eyes and he quickly washed himself, trying as much as possible not to look, and stopped his train of thought. He would find out those answers eventually, but right now, worrying wouldn’t do him good.
He told himself that he was just waiting until the right time to cross that bridge.
Even if he knew, in the back of his mind, that he never really planned to. Because he didn’t think he could bear it if he found out he was never able to love Spencer again.
When he crawled into bed and turned out the light, he allowed Spencer to press close to him, to put a hand over his arm, but he didn’t react. All he wanted to do was roll over and push him into the mattress and love him and taste him, but he stayed still.
“Aaron?”
Aaron swallowed until he felt his throat was clear enough to speak. “Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Aaron closed his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek against a sob. “Yeah.”
---
The searching began the next morning. Spencer sat quietly at the table. He obviously knew there was nothing he could do to stop Aaron from this search and until he was allowed to look to his satisfaction, he was going to be on edge.
Aaron started in the bathroom. He took everything out of the medicine cabinet, catalogued what was there, made a note in the back of his mind that it would be very easy to take an old bottle without anyone noticing.
But Foyet liked things to be noticed. So whatever it was, it was obvious, right under their noses, and they just weren’t realizing it. He put the bottles away. He checked razors, shampoo, soap, towels, cleaning supplies under the sink. Nothing.
Next was the bedroom. He moved methodically through the closet, counting the shirts and ties. The drawers were next-socks, underwear, pants, undershirts, all neatly in place and nothing looked out of order.
After he’d examined every corner of the main bedroom he moved to Jack’s. It shared a door with the bathroom that Aaron kept locked when Jack wasn’t there and he noted with a hint of relief that it was still locked. Not because it meant Foyet hadn’t been in there, which he almost certainly had, but because it meant Foyet wasn’t trying to tell him something. Nothing looked out of place, but Aaron still went through everything he could think of. Toy chest, closet, desk, crayons, bed, under the bed, posters… nothing jumped out at him. He felt an immense amount of relief.
After that he went into the living room and he could feel Spencer’s eyes watching him as he scanned the walls. All the artwork he had was there. The DVD holder was still full, the blinds were present… Aaron scowled and turned on the couch and tore the cushions off, looking for-he didn’t know what. Anything out of place.
Nothing.
He prowled around the room, touching everything in sight, searching for anything that looked out of place, new, different…
His search took him to the kitchen and that room took much longer than any of the others. Every spice jar, every cereal box, every can of food was pulled out of the cupboards and laid out and inspected. By the time Aaron had finished putting all of those away and started on the dishes, Spencer had risen and walked over.
“He took something,” Aaron growled before Spencer could even speak.
“I know,” Spencer said. “I wanted to see if I can help.”
“You’ve already looked,” Aaron said, digging through a drawer.
Spencer nodded.
“Foyet likes to have an impact,” Aaron said. “He would have taken something obvious.”
“We’ve probably seen whatever it is already,” Spencer said.
Aaron stopped and looked at him.
“The way the brain absorbs visual information is far less accurate than most people think,” Spencer said. “Because the brain itself tricks you into thinking that you’re aware of everything around you. But that would be too much information to be processing all at once all the time, so we work more on templates, filling in individual details as we come across and use them.”
“So?”
“So,” Spencer said, “We aren’t going to realize what’s gone by looking at what’s here. We’ll realize what’s gone when we go to use that thing specifically.”
Aaron huffed. Then he winced.
Spencer was there immediately, hand on his back. “You’ve been moving around more than you should.”
“I have to finish,” Aaron said.
“I know,” Spencer said. “But let me help.”
Aaron nodded.
So Spencer helped him go through everything in the kitchen, piece by piece, inspecting every cookbook for missing pages, checking every box in the pantry for missing food.
Nothing.
They found nothing.
Aaron would have started the entire search over again, if Spencer hadn’t stepped in and stopped him. But even as he sat on the couch, his gaze never stopped roaming.
What was he missing?
---
Haley called Aaron the next morning.
“He’s been asking to see you,” she said. “I know the visit isn’t scheduled for another week, but, in light of everything…”
Aaron held his breath, too scared to speak in case she changed her mind.
“Can we come over? And you and I can talk?”
“Of course,” Aaron said.
“Will, um, will Spencer be there?”
Aaron frowned. “Yes,” he said. “And I’m not going to make him leave.”
There was a pause. “I’d…feel more comfortable if he didn’t hear our conversation.”
“He can play with Jack in his room.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Do you really want Jack hearing our conversation, either?”
“No,” she said, then sighed. “I’ll be there in about half an hour.”
“We’ll see you then,” Aaron said.
Spencer came out of the bedroom as Aaron hung up. “Haley?” he guessed.
“Yeah,” Aaron said. “We’re going to talk.”
“Now?”
Aaron sighed. “When else?”
Spencer nodded.
“Can you watch Jack for us?”
Spencer smiled but looked a little uncertain. “She’ll let me?”
“She isn’t going to have much of a choice once he drags you away.”
---
True to his prediction...