Sanctuary - Chapter Fifteen
Title: Sanctuary
Author: drabbles_by_v
Characters/Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, team
Rating: FRAO/R
Word Count: 3,201
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.
Previous chapters here.
“What’s the verdict?” Spencer asked after Haley left with Jack later that night.
Aaron didn’t look at him. “We’ll act the same around Jack as we have been,” Aaron said. “You can sleep here when Jack is here, and Haley won’t teach him anything negative about same-sex couples.”
“That’s fair,” Spencer said. He followed Aaron into the bedroom and lingered in the bathroom doorway. Aaron wasn’t sure if he wanted him to stay or go. “Aaron?”
“Yeah?”
Spencer took a deep breath, possibly to steady himself. “Do you want to talk?”
Aaron clenched his fists. “No.”
Spencer walked forward and Aaron was expecting a fight, or at least a chastisement. Instead Spencer just rubbed his back and said, “Okay.”
Now Aaron was the one who needed to steady himself. He swallowed heavily. It would be easier to push Spencer away if the younger man was trying to get closer, but he wasn’t. He was waiting for Aaron to come to him. It was a taunting, torturous strategy. Aaron wanted to give in, wanted to crawl into Spencer’s arms and hide in the sound of his voice, but he didn’t dare allow himself that comfort. It was for Spencer’s own good, he told himself.
Or, if he was being honest with himself, and Aaron usually was, it was also because he was scared of what he would learn about himself once he was there.
He gave in that night in bed and allowed Spencer to lean carefully over him and kiss him. But it felt distant, and it didn’t last.
---
Aaron searched the living room again the next morning while Spencer was in the shower and the knowing look that his lover offered him when he came out of the bedroom, his hair towel-dried, made Aaron cringe guiltily. Spencer didn’t say anything, just leaned over and kissed the top of his head and quietly asked what he’d like for breakfast.
The day passed in relative silence with occasional conversation. Spencer was being unbelievably patient and Aaron could feel his resolve wearing down with every understanding, calm answer. He snapped at him more than once and retreated as much as possible, going so far as to not let Spencer help him clean any of his wounds anymore.
Spencer had figured him out completely and they both knew it was just a matter of time.
But Aaron knew that he was going to do everything in his power to push Spencer away before that time came.
That night, as Aaron brushed his teeth, Spencer leaned in the bathroom doorway and watched him silently. It was a comfortable silence, something like the close companionship they had shared so well before-
Then Spencer shifted and the feeling of the silence shifted palpably. Aaron let his doubts back in, set the shields back up. He was dangerous. He was broken. He needed to do this.
“How’s the pain today?” Spencer asked.
“I’m fine.”
“You won’t look at me.”
Aaron winced.
“I know…” Spencer began, sounding hesitant. He trailed off to think for a few moments. “I know you’re scared, of a lot of things, and-”
“And what, you understand?” Aaron said, his voice harsher than he’d intended. He could practically feel the shock.
“No, I-I’m here, to help, with anything.”
Aaron closed his eyes. Hold me, help me, kiss me until I forget-
The thoughts were banished. He swallowed the lump and blinked away his tears. “I don’t need help.”
“Yes you do.”
Aaron whirled on Spencer, glaring, and to his credit, Spencer’s only moved one foot back. He held his ground otherwise.
“You think I don’t see what you’re trying to do?” Spencer said. His face was steady but his voice was shaking.
“Enlighten me.”
“You’re hurt, you’re scared, you’re pushing me away because you think you’re helping me and because you’re ashamed and you don’t know if you’ll ever heal completely and that thought terrifies you.” Spencer took a breath. “God, Aaron, you said it yourself, I’ve read books about victims, you asked me to be strong for you, and I’m trying but-you won’t even look at me!”
“I’m looking at you now,” Aaron said in a quiet voice.
“No,” Spencer whispered, shaking his head, looking into his eyes. “You’re not.”
Aaron narrowed his gaze, and then grabbed the back of Spencer’s neck and pulled him into a kiss, but not the kind he knew they were both craving. It was hard. He didn’t allow any of the emotion out, couldn’t let Spencer know how much he was hurting to be so close and still so far away.
Spencer made a startled sound and tried to pull away but Aaron grabbed his arm and shoved him into the wall. Every wound in his chest flared with pain but he kept Spencer trapped in the kiss until the younger man finally managed to turn his head away.
“Don’t do this to me,” Spencer choked. “I can’t leave you, I can’t-”
Something broke inside of Aaron. He dimly heard Spencer talking, saying that he had promised, that he loved Aaron too much, that he didn’t even have anywhere to leave to, but suddenly the only thing he knew was that he close enough to kiss Spencer, so he took the younger man’s chin in his fingers. Spencer turned back easily, his words dying, and Aaron allowed himself to actually kiss him.
This kiss was just as hard, but now it was equally desperate. They clung to each other and Aaron could taste salt from tears-he didn’t know whose-on their lips. And oh god this was what he wanted, this man, his touch-and Aaron’s resolve was slipping so fast he knew it was a lost battle. They were pressed so close that his wounds were screaming at him but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. He lifted his hand to Spencer’s jaw, and-
Agony ripped through Aaron’s body and his legs gave out. He dimly felt Spencer grabbing him and catching him before he hit the ground and he sobbed harshly. Pain radiated from between his legs and killed any desire to kiss Spencer again. Spencer was asking him what had happened, what he had done, how he could help, and Aaron pushed him away, staggering to his feet. He gripped the sink and fought the swell of nausea.
The pain faded, slowly, and Aaron reached for his pill bottles with shaking hands once he felt he could move again. Spencer lingered, afraid to touch him, but similarly unwilling to leave. Aaron didn’t know if he was grateful or not.
Once in bed, Aaron allowed Spencer to touch his hand, but nothing more. They fell asleep in silence. Aaron was certain that Spencer was crying.
---
The apartment was silent the next morning when Aaron woke up. He reached over. The bed was cold. He sat up slowly, tentatively. The pain seemed less this morning than it had been the previous one. Still…
He made his way groggily to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. When he took the bandages off this morning, they would stay off. As he started unwrapping them, he wished he had Spencer there to help. It was awkward doing it himself.
After making sure the wounds were clean and still uninfected he swallowed his pills and brushed his teeth. He took his time. Maybe by the time he was done, he’d be hearing Spencer’s footsteps coming into the bedroom…
But the silence stayed heavy. Aaron finally, reluctantly, dressed and left the bedroom to begin making coffee. He felt a shiver go down his spine as he passed over the carpet.
As soon as he sat down with his mug and the newspaper, his phone started ringing from his room. Rossi’s ring? Aaron got up, hoping it was a consult, because he desperately needed to take his mind off things.
“Hello?”
“Aaron.”
Aaron closed his eyes. Rossi’s voice was a mixture of caring and patronizing. “What is it?”
“I wanted to ask how you’re doing.”
“I’m doing fine, Dave,” Aaron said. “Why are you really calling?”
“Would you believe it was just concern for your welfare?”
Aaron rolled his eyes. “I hoped it was a consult.”
“You think I would need to call you for a consult?”
Aaron frowned and didn’t dignify that with an answer.
“Still there?”
“Why are you really calling?”
Rossi clicked his tongue. “I saw Spencer sitting in Starbucks, before work,” he said. “He was at a table, reading. I just wanted to make sure…”
Aaron sighed. “We…I…it’s fine.”
“You know I don’t believe you.”
“I know.”
“Let him help you.”
“I’m-I’m trying.”
“You know he loves you,” Rossi said.
Aaron swallowed. “I know.”
“Then whatever you did to put that look on his face, make it right.”
---
Aaron refrained from calling. He finally heard the key in the lock as the sun was setting. He was at the table, facing away from the door. He closed the folder he was looking at and waited.
The door closed, the lock slid into place. Aaron heard a few footsteps, and then the light flipped on. He blinked. He hadn’t realized how dim it had gotten.
“Sitting in the dark?”
“I guess I didn’t notice…” Aaron said. The footsteps stopped right behind him. “Had a good day?”
“It was insightful. I’ve had better.”
Aaron fidgeted with the file.
“What are you working on?”
“Nothing.”
“Foyet, isn’t it. How did you get those? Kept them in your bag?”
“I do keep open case files on-hand.”
There was a long silence.
“Are you going to look at me?”
Aaron winced.
“Aaron, if you don’t want me here, that’s your choice.” The words sounded rehearsed and tired. “But you are going to have to say it to my face. You are going to have to look at me, and tell me to leave. Or else I’m staying, and I’m going to help.”
Aaron nodded.
“So which is it?”
Aaron’s fists clenched. He turned around.
Spencer’s eyes were tired and bloodshot. His face looked drained and his body looked like he was barely managing to remain standing. He didn’t look as steady as his voice sounded. Aaron glanced down and saw his fingers tapping rapidly against his leg. Too much caffeine, he surmised.
“Aaron, please,” Spencer said, and now his voice sounded like he looked. “I know you know what your answer is so just say it.”
But that wasn’t true, Aaron realized. He didn’t know. He couldn’t stop watching Spencer’s fingers. He knew what he wanted to do, and he knew what he needed to do.
But is it really?
He took a deep breath. “I-” But he couldn’t speak, not with the fingers tappingtappingtapping- His hand shot out and he grabbed them, squeezing tightly. He tried to say the words, tried to tell Spencer to leave, that there was nothing but pain for him here, but the words died before they even hit his lips. “Stay.”
Spencer took a deep, ragged breath, and it sounded like absolute relief, but there was still doubt. “Look at me and tell me you want me to stay.”
Aaron lifted his head. He looked right into Spencer’s eyes. “Stay,” he begged. “Please.”
Spencer swallowed and nodded. “Then you have to let me help you,” he said.
“I will,” Aaron said. He looked away. “But-but not yet.”
Spencer lifted Aaron’s hand and kissed the back. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
---
The breaking point came a few days later when Aaron stood up from the table and tried to go into the bedroom. The quality of the light hitting the wall from the small overhead fixture was the exact same and something about the smell of the room-
Aaron saw Foyet standing there, pointing a gun at him. Immediately he could feel the knife and the cold with such intensity that he staggered. When a figure appeared in the doorway he panicked and backed away, prepared to defend himself, because this was not going to happen to him again, when a familiar voice cut through the panic.
He heaved a breath and the vision cleared. He had enough time to flinch before Spencer’s hands were on his arms and he tried to twist away but the other man wouldn’t let him. He sagged, sobbing harshly, and allowed Spencer to lead him to the couch. He was aware enough to notice that he hadn’t tried to lead him over the patch of carpet.
When he was sitting and Spencer was kneeling in front of him, settled between his legs, Aaron wrapped his arms around himself and turned his head. Spencer reached up and touched his jaw, licked his lips briefly, and then began talking.
“Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is a very real thing you’re facing here. You’ve been through something traumatizing in your own home that was severe enough to overcome your familiarity with the space. Your sense of safety here has been significantly damaged and I know how much you don’t want to talk about it, at all, but I’ve been researching and there is a lot of new information about what causes PTSD and what some of the best ways to avoid it are.
“When you experience something that is suddenly psychologically traumatizing, your brain doesn’t always have time to process the information with the frontal lobe and the memory gets trapped, so to speak, in the hypothalamus, which is responsible for very primitive emotions. Fight or flight, that kind of thing.” Spencer paused for a moment. “When humans talk about trauma, it gets rationalized and processed, but when they don’t, very little things can set off flashbacks and anxiety. One of the reasons so many more soldiers came back from Vietnam with PTSD than World War I was the amount of time they had to travel back. When they spent weeks on a ship, they were given time away from the world to talk and process, but during Vietnam when they could be flown back in a matter of days and were suddenly on the streets again, they lost that debriefing time.
“That’s what you have here, is debriefing time, and I’m here to listen. You would never let anyone you care about act the way you are now, and I’m not going to let you, either. You need to talk about this, before it’s too late and the damage is permanent.”
Aaron started to protest, but Spencer still wasn’t done.
“Even if you don’t want to do this for yourself, then you’ll do it for your career,” the younger man said. “What do you think is going to happen to an agent who has PTSD?”
“They would be retired from the field,” Aaron said.
“Let me help you,” Spencer said. When Aaron still respond, Spencer squeezed his knee. “Do it for Jack,” he said.
That made Aaron stop and look back. “For Jack?”
Spencer nodded, then licked his lips and looked to the side. Aaron had seen the combination of those two things enough times to know it meant the younger man was thinking on his feet, and when he spoke, the words would be a tumble.
“You’re Jack’s hero, and you know it,” Spencer said. “And more than anything, you want to keep being his hero, right? And to do that, he needs to think that you aren’t afraid of anything, because that’s where a child’s faith in an adult comes from, believing they aren’t afraid of anything at all. And if you have a flashback while you’re walking to your bedroom and Jack sees-”
Aaron held his hand up. Spencer stopped talking.
“Okay,” he said. He took a deep breath. Imagining Jack’s absolute faith in him wavering was too hard. His shoulders slumped as the inevitability of talking hit him. “What-what do I do?”
“Tell me what happened.”
“You know what happened,” Aaron said in a flat voice.
“I know what Rossi told me happened,” Spencer said. “I know what was done to you, but I don’t know what you experienced.”
“I can’t,” Aaron said, shaking his head. “I was so scared, I can’t feel that again-”
“Start simple,” Spencer said. “Don’t think about how it felt, just tell me what you were doing, what you saw.”
Aaron nodded and gulped down a breath. He could do that. “I came home, after the case. I locked the door. I took my gun off. I went to the scotch.”
“Why did you go to the scotch?” Spencer asked.
“It was a hard case,” Aaron said. “You weren’t here.”
Spencer nodded in understanding. “Then what?”
“I heard something,” Aaron said. “In the bedroom. I thought it was you and I was so relieved that you were home after all, but then I realized…”
“Keep going,” Spencer encouraged.
“I turned around and he was standing there,” Aaron said. He could feel the adrenaline filling his veins. “He had his mask on. He told me I should have made the deal-” Spencer’s hand squeezed his. “-And then he fired into the wall. I tried to fight him but he was ready and I was exhausted…” Aaron closed his eyes and the memory overwhelmed him. “I can’t do this,” he said. He started shivering.
“Yes you can,” Spencer said. “Stay with me, look at me.”
Aaron obeyed and latched onto the familiar voice and opened his eyes. The images faded. He nodded.
“I don’t need detail,” Spencer said. “I just need you to tell me what happened after that.”
“He got me on my back,” Aaron said. He could feel the memories just on the edge of his mind, fighting to break back in, but he focused on the facts. “He taunted me and talked to me and he started stabbing me. It lasted for…” He gripped Spencer’s hand. “And then I must have passed out. I only remember the hospital after that.”
Spencer kissed Aaron’s knuckles. “Good,” he murmured.
“Is that…?” Aaron asked hesitantly.
“That’s all,” Spencer said. “That’s the first step. You created an episodic memory of the event and that’s something you can look to in the future, instead of reliving the entire thing. Eventually, as time passes, the memory will resemble more of a semantic memory.”
“Have you been taking psychology classes?” Aaron asked.
“I’ve been reading psychology textbooks and research specifically having to do with PTSD and memory,” Spencer said.
Aaron let out a slow breath. “That’s really it?” he asked.
Spencer nodded. “Are you okay?”
“I’m…okay as I was before,” Aaron said. “But not worse.”
“Keep processing the memory,” Spencer said. “That, more than anything, will help the flashbacks. And talk to me about anything you feel like talking about, whenever you feel like talking about it.”
Aaron nodded. Maybe he could have hope for this-
Then he remembered the painful throbbing between his legs. Even if he could have hope for his mental health, there was still no way of telling…and even Spencer wouldn’t be able to help with that if he didn’t heal.
“Stitches out tomorrow,” Spencer said, hopefully.
“Yeah,” Aaron said. Dread settled in his stomach. “Stitches out tomorrow.”
Author: drabbles_by_v
Characters/Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, team
Rating: FRAO/R
Word Count: 3,201
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.
Previous chapters here.
“What’s the verdict?” Spencer asked after Haley left with Jack later that night.
Aaron didn’t look at him. “We’ll act the same around Jack as we have been,” Aaron said. “You can sleep here when Jack is here, and Haley won’t teach him anything negative about same-sex couples.”
“That’s fair,” Spencer said. He followed Aaron into the bedroom and lingered in the bathroom doorway. Aaron wasn’t sure if he wanted him to stay or go. “Aaron?”
“Yeah?”
Spencer took a deep breath, possibly to steady himself. “Do you want to talk?”
Aaron clenched his fists. “No.”
Spencer walked forward and Aaron was expecting a fight, or at least a chastisement. Instead Spencer just rubbed his back and said, “Okay.”
Now Aaron was the one who needed to steady himself. He swallowed heavily. It would be easier to push Spencer away if the younger man was trying to get closer, but he wasn’t. He was waiting for Aaron to come to him. It was a taunting, torturous strategy. Aaron wanted to give in, wanted to crawl into Spencer’s arms and hide in the sound of his voice, but he didn’t dare allow himself that comfort. It was for Spencer’s own good, he told himself.
Or, if he was being honest with himself, and Aaron usually was, it was also because he was scared of what he would learn about himself once he was there.
He gave in that night in bed and allowed Spencer to lean carefully over him and kiss him. But it felt distant, and it didn’t last.
---
Aaron searched the living room again the next morning while Spencer was in the shower and the knowing look that his lover offered him when he came out of the bedroom, his hair towel-dried, made Aaron cringe guiltily. Spencer didn’t say anything, just leaned over and kissed the top of his head and quietly asked what he’d like for breakfast.
The day passed in relative silence with occasional conversation. Spencer was being unbelievably patient and Aaron could feel his resolve wearing down with every understanding, calm answer. He snapped at him more than once and retreated as much as possible, going so far as to not let Spencer help him clean any of his wounds anymore.
Spencer had figured him out completely and they both knew it was just a matter of time.
But Aaron knew that he was going to do everything in his power to push Spencer away before that time came.
That night, as Aaron brushed his teeth, Spencer leaned in the bathroom doorway and watched him silently. It was a comfortable silence, something like the close companionship they had shared so well before-
Then Spencer shifted and the feeling of the silence shifted palpably. Aaron let his doubts back in, set the shields back up. He was dangerous. He was broken. He needed to do this.
“How’s the pain today?” Spencer asked.
“I’m fine.”
“You won’t look at me.”
Aaron winced.
“I know…” Spencer began, sounding hesitant. He trailed off to think for a few moments. “I know you’re scared, of a lot of things, and-”
“And what, you understand?” Aaron said, his voice harsher than he’d intended. He could practically feel the shock.
“No, I-I’m here, to help, with anything.”
Aaron closed his eyes. Hold me, help me, kiss me until I forget-
The thoughts were banished. He swallowed the lump and blinked away his tears. “I don’t need help.”
“Yes you do.”
Aaron whirled on Spencer, glaring, and to his credit, Spencer’s only moved one foot back. He held his ground otherwise.
“You think I don’t see what you’re trying to do?” Spencer said. His face was steady but his voice was shaking.
“Enlighten me.”
“You’re hurt, you’re scared, you’re pushing me away because you think you’re helping me and because you’re ashamed and you don’t know if you’ll ever heal completely and that thought terrifies you.” Spencer took a breath. “God, Aaron, you said it yourself, I’ve read books about victims, you asked me to be strong for you, and I’m trying but-you won’t even look at me!”
“I’m looking at you now,” Aaron said in a quiet voice.
“No,” Spencer whispered, shaking his head, looking into his eyes. “You’re not.”
Aaron narrowed his gaze, and then grabbed the back of Spencer’s neck and pulled him into a kiss, but not the kind he knew they were both craving. It was hard. He didn’t allow any of the emotion out, couldn’t let Spencer know how much he was hurting to be so close and still so far away.
Spencer made a startled sound and tried to pull away but Aaron grabbed his arm and shoved him into the wall. Every wound in his chest flared with pain but he kept Spencer trapped in the kiss until the younger man finally managed to turn his head away.
“Don’t do this to me,” Spencer choked. “I can’t leave you, I can’t-”
Something broke inside of Aaron. He dimly heard Spencer talking, saying that he had promised, that he loved Aaron too much, that he didn’t even have anywhere to leave to, but suddenly the only thing he knew was that he close enough to kiss Spencer, so he took the younger man’s chin in his fingers. Spencer turned back easily, his words dying, and Aaron allowed himself to actually kiss him.
This kiss was just as hard, but now it was equally desperate. They clung to each other and Aaron could taste salt from tears-he didn’t know whose-on their lips. And oh god this was what he wanted, this man, his touch-and Aaron’s resolve was slipping so fast he knew it was a lost battle. They were pressed so close that his wounds were screaming at him but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. He lifted his hand to Spencer’s jaw, and-
Agony ripped through Aaron’s body and his legs gave out. He dimly felt Spencer grabbing him and catching him before he hit the ground and he sobbed harshly. Pain radiated from between his legs and killed any desire to kiss Spencer again. Spencer was asking him what had happened, what he had done, how he could help, and Aaron pushed him away, staggering to his feet. He gripped the sink and fought the swell of nausea.
The pain faded, slowly, and Aaron reached for his pill bottles with shaking hands once he felt he could move again. Spencer lingered, afraid to touch him, but similarly unwilling to leave. Aaron didn’t know if he was grateful or not.
Once in bed, Aaron allowed Spencer to touch his hand, but nothing more. They fell asleep in silence. Aaron was certain that Spencer was crying.
---
The apartment was silent the next morning when Aaron woke up. He reached over. The bed was cold. He sat up slowly, tentatively. The pain seemed less this morning than it had been the previous one. Still…
He made his way groggily to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. When he took the bandages off this morning, they would stay off. As he started unwrapping them, he wished he had Spencer there to help. It was awkward doing it himself.
After making sure the wounds were clean and still uninfected he swallowed his pills and brushed his teeth. He took his time. Maybe by the time he was done, he’d be hearing Spencer’s footsteps coming into the bedroom…
But the silence stayed heavy. Aaron finally, reluctantly, dressed and left the bedroom to begin making coffee. He felt a shiver go down his spine as he passed over the carpet.
As soon as he sat down with his mug and the newspaper, his phone started ringing from his room. Rossi’s ring? Aaron got up, hoping it was a consult, because he desperately needed to take his mind off things.
“Hello?”
“Aaron.”
Aaron closed his eyes. Rossi’s voice was a mixture of caring and patronizing. “What is it?”
“I wanted to ask how you’re doing.”
“I’m doing fine, Dave,” Aaron said. “Why are you really calling?”
“Would you believe it was just concern for your welfare?”
Aaron rolled his eyes. “I hoped it was a consult.”
“You think I would need to call you for a consult?”
Aaron frowned and didn’t dignify that with an answer.
“Still there?”
“Why are you really calling?”
Rossi clicked his tongue. “I saw Spencer sitting in Starbucks, before work,” he said. “He was at a table, reading. I just wanted to make sure…”
Aaron sighed. “We…I…it’s fine.”
“You know I don’t believe you.”
“I know.”
“Let him help you.”
“I’m-I’m trying.”
“You know he loves you,” Rossi said.
Aaron swallowed. “I know.”
“Then whatever you did to put that look on his face, make it right.”
---
Aaron refrained from calling. He finally heard the key in the lock as the sun was setting. He was at the table, facing away from the door. He closed the folder he was looking at and waited.
The door closed, the lock slid into place. Aaron heard a few footsteps, and then the light flipped on. He blinked. He hadn’t realized how dim it had gotten.
“Sitting in the dark?”
“I guess I didn’t notice…” Aaron said. The footsteps stopped right behind him. “Had a good day?”
“It was insightful. I’ve had better.”
Aaron fidgeted with the file.
“What are you working on?”
“Nothing.”
“Foyet, isn’t it. How did you get those? Kept them in your bag?”
“I do keep open case files on-hand.”
There was a long silence.
“Are you going to look at me?”
Aaron winced.
“Aaron, if you don’t want me here, that’s your choice.” The words sounded rehearsed and tired. “But you are going to have to say it to my face. You are going to have to look at me, and tell me to leave. Or else I’m staying, and I’m going to help.”
Aaron nodded.
“So which is it?”
Aaron’s fists clenched. He turned around.
Spencer’s eyes were tired and bloodshot. His face looked drained and his body looked like he was barely managing to remain standing. He didn’t look as steady as his voice sounded. Aaron glanced down and saw his fingers tapping rapidly against his leg. Too much caffeine, he surmised.
“Aaron, please,” Spencer said, and now his voice sounded like he looked. “I know you know what your answer is so just say it.”
But that wasn’t true, Aaron realized. He didn’t know. He couldn’t stop watching Spencer’s fingers. He knew what he wanted to do, and he knew what he needed to do.
But is it really?
He took a deep breath. “I-” But he couldn’t speak, not with the fingers tappingtappingtapping- His hand shot out and he grabbed them, squeezing tightly. He tried to say the words, tried to tell Spencer to leave, that there was nothing but pain for him here, but the words died before they even hit his lips. “Stay.”
Spencer took a deep, ragged breath, and it sounded like absolute relief, but there was still doubt. “Look at me and tell me you want me to stay.”
Aaron lifted his head. He looked right into Spencer’s eyes. “Stay,” he begged. “Please.”
Spencer swallowed and nodded. “Then you have to let me help you,” he said.
“I will,” Aaron said. He looked away. “But-but not yet.”
Spencer lifted Aaron’s hand and kissed the back. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
---
The breaking point came a few days later when Aaron stood up from the table and tried to go into the bedroom. The quality of the light hitting the wall from the small overhead fixture was the exact same and something about the smell of the room-
Aaron saw Foyet standing there, pointing a gun at him. Immediately he could feel the knife and the cold with such intensity that he staggered. When a figure appeared in the doorway he panicked and backed away, prepared to defend himself, because this was not going to happen to him again, when a familiar voice cut through the panic.
He heaved a breath and the vision cleared. He had enough time to flinch before Spencer’s hands were on his arms and he tried to twist away but the other man wouldn’t let him. He sagged, sobbing harshly, and allowed Spencer to lead him to the couch. He was aware enough to notice that he hadn’t tried to lead him over the patch of carpet.
When he was sitting and Spencer was kneeling in front of him, settled between his legs, Aaron wrapped his arms around himself and turned his head. Spencer reached up and touched his jaw, licked his lips briefly, and then began talking.
“Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is a very real thing you’re facing here. You’ve been through something traumatizing in your own home that was severe enough to overcome your familiarity with the space. Your sense of safety here has been significantly damaged and I know how much you don’t want to talk about it, at all, but I’ve been researching and there is a lot of new information about what causes PTSD and what some of the best ways to avoid it are.
“When you experience something that is suddenly psychologically traumatizing, your brain doesn’t always have time to process the information with the frontal lobe and the memory gets trapped, so to speak, in the hypothalamus, which is responsible for very primitive emotions. Fight or flight, that kind of thing.” Spencer paused for a moment. “When humans talk about trauma, it gets rationalized and processed, but when they don’t, very little things can set off flashbacks and anxiety. One of the reasons so many more soldiers came back from Vietnam with PTSD than World War I was the amount of time they had to travel back. When they spent weeks on a ship, they were given time away from the world to talk and process, but during Vietnam when they could be flown back in a matter of days and were suddenly on the streets again, they lost that debriefing time.
“That’s what you have here, is debriefing time, and I’m here to listen. You would never let anyone you care about act the way you are now, and I’m not going to let you, either. You need to talk about this, before it’s too late and the damage is permanent.”
Aaron started to protest, but Spencer still wasn’t done.
“Even if you don’t want to do this for yourself, then you’ll do it for your career,” the younger man said. “What do you think is going to happen to an agent who has PTSD?”
“They would be retired from the field,” Aaron said.
“Let me help you,” Spencer said. When Aaron still respond, Spencer squeezed his knee. “Do it for Jack,” he said.
That made Aaron stop and look back. “For Jack?”
Spencer nodded, then licked his lips and looked to the side. Aaron had seen the combination of those two things enough times to know it meant the younger man was thinking on his feet, and when he spoke, the words would be a tumble.
“You’re Jack’s hero, and you know it,” Spencer said. “And more than anything, you want to keep being his hero, right? And to do that, he needs to think that you aren’t afraid of anything, because that’s where a child’s faith in an adult comes from, believing they aren’t afraid of anything at all. And if you have a flashback while you’re walking to your bedroom and Jack sees-”
Aaron held his hand up. Spencer stopped talking.
“Okay,” he said. He took a deep breath. Imagining Jack’s absolute faith in him wavering was too hard. His shoulders slumped as the inevitability of talking hit him. “What-what do I do?”
“Tell me what happened.”
“You know what happened,” Aaron said in a flat voice.
“I know what Rossi told me happened,” Spencer said. “I know what was done to you, but I don’t know what you experienced.”
“I can’t,” Aaron said, shaking his head. “I was so scared, I can’t feel that again-”
“Start simple,” Spencer said. “Don’t think about how it felt, just tell me what you were doing, what you saw.”
Aaron nodded and gulped down a breath. He could do that. “I came home, after the case. I locked the door. I took my gun off. I went to the scotch.”
“Why did you go to the scotch?” Spencer asked.
“It was a hard case,” Aaron said. “You weren’t here.”
Spencer nodded in understanding. “Then what?”
“I heard something,” Aaron said. “In the bedroom. I thought it was you and I was so relieved that you were home after all, but then I realized…”
“Keep going,” Spencer encouraged.
“I turned around and he was standing there,” Aaron said. He could feel the adrenaline filling his veins. “He had his mask on. He told me I should have made the deal-” Spencer’s hand squeezed his. “-And then he fired into the wall. I tried to fight him but he was ready and I was exhausted…” Aaron closed his eyes and the memory overwhelmed him. “I can’t do this,” he said. He started shivering.
“Yes you can,” Spencer said. “Stay with me, look at me.”
Aaron obeyed and latched onto the familiar voice and opened his eyes. The images faded. He nodded.
“I don’t need detail,” Spencer said. “I just need you to tell me what happened after that.”
“He got me on my back,” Aaron said. He could feel the memories just on the edge of his mind, fighting to break back in, but he focused on the facts. “He taunted me and talked to me and he started stabbing me. It lasted for…” He gripped Spencer’s hand. “And then I must have passed out. I only remember the hospital after that.”
Spencer kissed Aaron’s knuckles. “Good,” he murmured.
“Is that…?” Aaron asked hesitantly.
“That’s all,” Spencer said. “That’s the first step. You created an episodic memory of the event and that’s something you can look to in the future, instead of reliving the entire thing. Eventually, as time passes, the memory will resemble more of a semantic memory.”
“Have you been taking psychology classes?” Aaron asked.
“I’ve been reading psychology textbooks and research specifically having to do with PTSD and memory,” Spencer said.
Aaron let out a slow breath. “That’s really it?” he asked.
Spencer nodded. “Are you okay?”
“I’m…okay as I was before,” Aaron said. “But not worse.”
“Keep processing the memory,” Spencer said. “That, more than anything, will help the flashbacks. And talk to me about anything you feel like talking about, whenever you feel like talking about it.”
Aaron nodded. Maybe he could have hope for this-
Then he remembered the painful throbbing between his legs. Even if he could have hope for his mental health, there was still no way of telling…and even Spencer wouldn’t be able to help with that if he didn’t heal.
“Stitches out tomorrow,” Spencer said, hopefully.
“Yeah,” Aaron said. Dread settled in his stomach. “Stitches out tomorrow.”