FIC: Red Mist
Title: Red Mist
Author: nebula99
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: FRAO/NC-17
Type: Slash
Pairing: Reid/OC, Reid/Hotch
Prompt: "Poor little profiler - all alone and unarmed. Where's your boss now?"
Kink: H/C, rescue after attack - prompted by hawk_dancing for rounds_of_kink
Challenge: No Way Out for 10_cliche_fics
Warning: Deals with domestic abuse and contains graphic scenes of violence - if that is going to trigger or disturb you, please don’t read it.
Author’s Note: Thank you to slash_girl for the beta and for lots of helpful suggestions and discussions.
Red Mist
Whatever is begun in anger, ends in shame.
Benjamin Franklin
Spencer Reid was tired, exhausted even. He scrubbed at his eyes as he closed the door of his apartment, trying to ignore the pile of boxes that he had still to unpack. He sighed, figuring that he had lived without this stuff being in storage for so long now, another few days in boxes shouldn’t matter. He’d moved in with such a rush that he’d only dealt with the urgent matters, not even getting his landline connected yet - but that could wait for another day. He hadn’t needed to use it these past few weeks anyway.
The case they had just finished had been gruelling, both physically and emotionally. Everyone had worked almost until they had dropped because a monster was killing children and he had to be stopped. Luckily, this time they had won and Gregory Dale was facing a lifetime in a maximum security facility. However, the hunt had proved exacting and Reid was so tired he could almost vomit.
He unclipped his holster and placed his gun in his messenger bag, hanging it up next to the door as he always did. Then he checked the bolt was across the door and trudged into the bathroom, turning on the shower and undressing quickly, leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor.
The hot water felt good, washing away dirt that clung after three days immersed in an investigation of this kind. His skin felt clean and his brain felt slightly less dirty, which was as much as he could ask for. Reid dried himself briskly and, wrapping a towel around his waist, walked straight into his bedroom to pull on sweatpants and a t-shirt. The shower had taken the edge off his exhaustion, making him suddenly aware that he was hungry. Reid combed his damp hair off his face and started to walk across his tiny living room to the kitchen area to fix himself something to eat.
As he switched on the overhead light, a voice made him turn towards the couch. A voice that made him cold inside.
“Good evening Spencer,” said the smiling man who was sitting there. “Long time, no see.”
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Reid had been browsing in a chaotic second hand bookstore when he had bumped into Nicholas Hamilton. He greeted him with a warm smile. “Nick,” he said, genuinely pleased to see him. “It’s Spencer - do you remember me?”
The dark haired man beamed at him. “Of course I do,” he replied. “You look a lot better - how are things?”
“Good,” nodded Reid. “Three weeks and four days.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned.
“Nearly a month then - congratulations,” said Nick, checking his watch. “Listen, do you want to grab a coffee?”
As Reid hesitated, Nick placed a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m not your counsellor anymore, so there’s no professional boundaries to worry about. This is just coffee, between friends.”
“Thanks,” said Reid. “I’d like that.”
Reid had met Nick at a needle exchange nearly a month previously and had spoken to him about his decision to withdraw from Dilaudid on his own. Nick had insisted that Reid come for at least one counselling session and had talked through the withdrawal process in detail with him, making sure that he understood just how difficult it might be. He had reassured Reid that he could call - any time of night or day - and had followed this up by being a lifeline at the most tough and painful moments.
Of course, while Reid had noticed how attractive Nick was, he hadn’t allowed himself to think about him like that. Getting through the withdrawal had been his priority. Now, however, he was over the worst and ready to enjoy his life again.
Nick was easy to talk to and what’s more, he was interested in Reid. The coffee turned into dinner and at the end of the evening, Nick had taken Reid’s number and had called him as soon as he got home.
Reid was both flattered and a little overwhelmed, but Nick was good at putting him at his ease and what was more, he understood the aspect of Reid’s life that he had kept hidden from everybody else. It was okay to talk about the drugs with Nick because he understood and his compassion with his constant assurances that Reid was beautiful and lovable were seductive. Nick made him feel good - about how he looked, how he acted and most importantly, he made him feel that he could stay clean. Nicholas Hamilton was the best thing that had happened to Spencer Reid in a very long time.
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Reid stared at the man in his apartment. This could not be happening. His mouth had gone dry and his fingers had curled automatically into fists. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Oh yeah,” replied the man, holding up a crumpled piece of paper. “Your restraining order. Guess you’d better call the cops then.” He smirked. “Only it expired and you never got around to getting a permanent one. Why is that, Spencer? Didn’t want to face me in court?”
“How did you find me?” said Reid hoarsely. He knew he should do something, call for help or run, but he couldn’t move. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
The man snickered. “You covered your tracks pretty well,” he acknowledged. “It wasn’t easy to hunt you down. Luckily, I like a challenge, so I hopped on a plane to Vegas and went to see Mommie Dearest.”
Reid went pale. “You did what?” he gasped.
“Don’t worry,” said the man airily, waving his hand, “The Nutty Professor is quite safe. Still crazy but in one piece. We had a nice chat and she showed me your letters and I made a little note of the return address on the latest one. Then it was just a matter of asking that nice old lady downstairs for a spare key because I’d left mine at work.” He shook his head. “Really Spencer, you should be more careful. I could have been anybody.”
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From their first date, Reid and Nick’s relationship had snowballed rapidly into something serious, something consuming. Nick told Reid that he loved him, that he loved spending time with him, that he loved having sex with him and Reid thought that he must have fallen for Nick. Whenever he wasn’t at work, he was with Nick and he was constantly amazed that his boyfriend wanted to spend so much time with him. Reid’s previous experience of relationships was limited - he’d never got further than a few dates - but he knew enough to realise that this was pretty special.
For the first time in his life, Reid felt cared for and loved for who he was. Nick knew everything about him and he still loved him - which meant he must have a very generous heart. Reid knew he was lucky to have him.
After six whirlwind weeks, Reid moved in with Nick. His lease had expired and his landlord had doubled his rent and so Nick suggested he move in with him to save money while looking for another place. There wasn’t much room for Reid’s stuff, so he packed it up and put most of it in storage, taking only his clothes and a few books to Nick’s apartment.
They had such good times together, just the two of them and the sex was amazing. Admittedly, Nick could be a little bit rough in bed sometimes and he hurt Reid on occasion, but he was so apologetic if Reid mentioned it that after a while he kept quiet. Nick wouldn’t have meant to hurt him - he just got swept along with the passion. It wasn’t as if it was anything serious.
He knew that he could stay clean while he had Nick. His boyfriend understood what he had been through, what a struggle it was to quit and he knew how fortunate he was to have someone like that in his life. No-one at work could have understood like he did. And nobody at work had ever told him that he was beautiful.
-----------------------------------
Reid tried to push down the panic rising in his throat. This was his home and this man had no right to be here. He had taken this apartment because it was cheap and available right away and the relief he had felt on locking the door behind him that first night was wonderful.
Nick had no right to come in here and spoil it. They were through.
Reid tried to think like an FBI Agent. He could get his gun and handcuffs from his bag, make an arrest and call for back up. As he took a step towards his messenger bag, Nick let out a derisory snort.
“Looking for these?” he asked, holding up Reid’s Glock and his cell phone. “You’re so predictable Spencer,” he tutted. “Are you gonna call 911 now?”
Reid glanced towards the house phone but it was useless with no connection. “How long have you been here?” he asked, edging back towards the door.
“Long enough,” smiled Nick. “I knew you’d put your gun in your bag and hang it up and I knew you’d leave your key in the door. That’s the beauty of having lived with you for all those months.”
Reid took another sideways step towards the door. “What do you want, Nick?” he asked. “It’s over between us.”
Nick stood up and turned Reid’s gun over in his hand. “No,” he said, “You don’t get to decide that. I say when it’s over and I say when you can leave. You can’t run out on me one day when I’m at work, getting a lawyer to do your dirty work for you. That’s just plain rude.”
Reid gulped. He’d seen Nick in a rage plenty of times before, but this icy calmness was something new, something scary. “Nick,” he said, holding out his palms, “Please put the gun down and we can talk.”
Nick took a step closer to Reid, caressing the barrel of the Glock as he spoke. “Talk? Why would I want to talk to you, Spencer? You took out a restraining order against me! I’ve done nothing but love you and look after you and this is how you repay me?”
Reid stared at him. He was locked in his apartment with no way of getting out, trapped with the man he was still terrified of. His palms were sweating and he was trembling. Cursing his fear, he tried to act like a profiler. He needed to get Nick on his side - and get him out of the apartment.
“Okay,” said Reid, speaking slowly and trying to keep the wobble out of his voice. “Why don’t I put some different clothes on and we can go out? Let’s go and have some dinner and we can talk about it.”
“Oh sure,” said Nick, lowering the gun and tucking it into his waistband. “Let’s go out.”
Reid’s shoulders dropped and the relief flooded his face. He’d done it. Now all he needed was to find a way to call the police when they were outside. He tried to smile convincingly. “Great!” he said, turning towards the bedroom. “There’s a lot of things to discuss.”
In a flash, Nick had crossed the room and grabbed his arm in a tight hold. “Don’t try that psychobabble bullshit with me, Spencer - remember I know what you do for a living? You can’t talk your way out of this one.”
Horrified, Reid looked at him with wide eyes. Nick’s fingers were digging into his skin, squeezing tighter as Reid tried to pull his arm away. “Please Nick, don’t,” he whispered.
A cold smile spread across his ex’s face and Reid felt his insides turn to ice water. He recognised that look.
-------------------------------------------
At first there had been random flashes of temper - Nick slamming his fist down on the counter or shouting. It always made Reid flinch but it didn’t particularly worry him. He’d lived with a paranoid schizophrenic for years so Nick’s sudden mood changes and volatility were nothing compared to Diana’s behaviour. Reid reasoned that Nick was a passionate person - someone who loved him fiercely and so of course he lost his temper sometimes. It was no big deal.
And Nick was always so loving and so concerned; calling Reid everyday when the team were away, wanting to know when he’d be home, and checking that he was okay. It was nice having someone care that much.
Then, after the team had flown back from a case, they had all decided to go for a drink. Reid stayed for one and then caught the train home, surprised to see that Nick didn’t rush to greet him as soon as he came through the door.
“You’re late,” snarled Nick, glaring at him. “Been with Hotch, have you?”
“I’m sorry,” frowned Reid, puzzled by the response. “We just went for a drink after work.”
“Spencer,” said Nick sharply, “You’re in recovery. You should have just come home - how am I supposed to keep you clean if you go out drinking with him?”
“I had one drink!” replied Reid with a laugh. “One drink isn’t going to-“
He broke off as Nick grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him towards him. “Don’t you dare laugh at me,” snapped Nick.
“Ow,” said Reid, trying to pull away from the painful grip. “Nick - you’re hurting me.”
“I’m hurting you, am I?” shouted Nick, pulling Reid hard so that the young man stumbled. “You don’t come home late - do you understand?”
Reid staggered and tried again to pull his arm away. Nick was hurting him and he didn’t understand what was going on. He stared at his lover, wondering what on earth he had done to make him so mad. “Nick, please let go of my-“
The punch to the stomach made him double over in pain and shock. Nick still had a hold of his arm and he hit him hard in the stomach and side several times before flinging Reid violently away from him.
Still bent over and clutching at his stomach, Reid fell to his knees, coughing and gasping for air. There were tears in his eyes and he was still trying to process what had just happened. When he looked up, he saw Nick standing over him, fists clenched and face contorted in fury. “Don’t you ever fucking dare laugh at me!” yelled Nick, before leaning down and slapping Reid hard around the back of his head.
Reid stayed kneeling on the floor, arms curled protectively around his stomach and his head bent forwards. He winced in pain and tried hard to bite back the tears that were threatening to fall. Nick had just hurt him and he had no real idea why.
He stayed on the floor for a while, too shocked and hurting too much to move anywhere. Nick had stormed out of the room and Reid wasn’t too sure what to do. He couldn’t believe what had just happened.
For what seemed like ages, Reid knelt on the cold tiled floor, crying quietly with shock and pain. Nobody had ever hit him like that; he’d never even been spanked as a child, partly because his mother didn’t believe in it and partly because he was an incredibly well behaved little boy. He wondered what on earth had happened to make Nick so angry with him.
Sometime later, Nick came and sat next to him, sliding a warm arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. There were apologies and hugs and earnest assurances that he would never do anything like that again and Reid even apologised for being late. They cuddled on the kitchen floor until Nick helped Reid to his feet and led him gently to bed. Trying not to wince, Reid crawled gratefully into Nick’s arms in bed, reassuring himself that Nick had only gotten mad because he loved him so much. And Nick had promised that he would never do anything like that again.
The next day, Reid came home from work to find the apartment full of the scent of fresh roses and home baking. Nick greeted him with a kiss and presented him with a gift of an Asimov first edition. Reid smiled and embraced his lover, ignoring the bruises and taking comfort in the knowledge that Nick still loved him.
Afterwards, he wondered why he had been so forgiving when every instinct in him should have been screaming at him to leave. But at the time, leaving didn’t seem like an option. He was in love and being loved in return for the first time and he couldn’t bear to jeopardise that. Nick cherished him and Nick was making sure he stayed clean and those were reasons enough to stay.
And besides, Nick had promised that it would never happen again.
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Reid hated that he was pleading with Nick already. He knew how this always played out and yet every time he still attempted to keep the peace - trying to appease him, agreeing with him, sometimes just plain begging him, but none of it had ever worked.
And now Nick was here, in the apartment he wasn’t supposed to know about. Reid glanced towards the kitchen - if he could get out of this grip, he could make it. There were weapons in there and he could hold Nick off, get some help. He shifted his weight onto his back foot, ready to drop and twist out of Nick’s hold - Morgan had always made this stuff look so easy.
Taking stock of his escape route, Reid took his eyes off Nick. The smack in the mouth with the butt of his gun made him wish that he hadn’t.
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After that first incident, Nick was attentive, generous, gentle. They had some good times and the sex just got better. Reid still felt uncomfortable about what had happened, but he relied on Nick so much that he didn’t mention it, for fear of sparking a fight. Nick was the one who was keeping him clean - he had been told that enough - and Nick was the only person who thought he was beautiful, sexy and lovable.
But then there was another fight, another baffling flare of temper at something Reid thought was trivial and another bout of violence. This too was followed by tears and apologies and protestations of love and so the cycle continued.
Reid quickly learned not to provoke Nick, not to disagree with him, not to be late home, not to put white sugar in his coffee, not to use the remote. He tried as hard as he could to keep things on an even keel, to keep the mood light and loving, to have days with his boyfriend that were fun and ended in bed, rather than days which terrified him and ended with tears. He had to keep Nick happy, it was the only way.
But despite all Reid’s efforts, it wasn’t enough. Some days he just couldn’t do anything right. Coming back after a brutal case in LA, he wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and sleep for an entire weekend. So when Nick stood behind him, massaging his shoulders and kissing the back of his neck, Reid smiled at him, tipping his head and resting his cheek on Nick’s hand, murmuring, “That’s nice, but I’m exhausted. I need to sleep.”
There was a tightness in Nick’s voice. “I’m running a bath - I thought we could take it together. I haven’t seen you for three days.”
Tentatively, Reid said, “I’m all yours tomorrow - but really, I’m no good to anybody tonight.”
The pull on his hair made him gasp out loud. “Nick, what are you doing?” he asked, his head being yanked back.
In response, Nick punched him sharply in the small of his back, following up with another. “I want you to have a bath with me,” said Nick icily, giving Reid’s hair a sharp pull and then letting go abruptly.
Stunned and sore, Reid turned to Nick, confusion and betrayal in his eyes.
“We are having a bath together,” snapped Nick. “You need to get undressed.” Then he spun around and strode out of the room.
Moving slowly, wincing from the pain in his back, Reid took off his clothes. There was no point in arguing when Nick was in this kind of mood - he got his own way in the end, so he may as well just give in now and save himself the misery of a fight. He needed Nick and he needed him not to be mad at him.
In the bathroom, Reid took off his robe and climbed into the bath where Nick was already waiting for him. He settled in between Nick’s legs and sat still with his head bowed.
Nick gently washed and conditioned Reid’s hair and then pulled him firmly back so that he lay against Nick’s chest. Nick stroked a finger down Reid’s cheek. “I only get mad because I love you - you know that, right?” he said.
“Yeah, I know,” muttered Reid, too tired and too unwilling to fight to give any other response.
He closed his eyes and tried to relax into Nick’s embrace. He didn’t want to look down at the old bruises speckling his torso, or at the proprietary hand Nick had placed on his thigh.
“You need me, Spencer,” continued Nick in a soft voice. “Nobody else would love you like I do - nobody else would even look at you. I see the real Spencer - the rest of them have no idea.”
Reid nodded, his eyes still closed. At first, these phrases used to sound so comforting - now they sounded like Nick owned him. But without Nick, he would be all alone and last time he’d been alone, he had wound up addicted to Dilaudid.
He felt Nick’s hand slide across his thigh, taking hold of his cock, squeezing and massaging.
“We belong together, Spencer,” murmured Nick, entwining his fingers in Reid’s wet hair, “And you know you’re no good without me.”
Reid was silent and so Nick tugged a little on his hair. “You can’t ever leave me,” said, his voice a little louder.
“I won’t,” replied Reid automatically.
“Good,” said Nick, pulling more sharply on Reid’s hair. “Because if you ever do, I’ll kill myself and it will be all your fault.”
Reid’s eyes snapped open. He stayed perfectly still, not daring to move as Nick let go of his cock and walked his fingers slowly up his chest to his nipple.
Reid pulled a face as Nick pinched his nipple sharply but he didn’t cry out. “Do you understand me, Spencer?” purred Nick, “Because I don’t think you want my blood on your pretty hands, do you?”
“I won’t leave you,” said Reid in a trembling voice.
“Good,” replied Nick, pinching his nipple hard again. “That’s good.”
Afterwards, Nick fucked him face down on the bathroom floor. Nick barely bothered preparing him and it hurt like hell. When he’d finished, exited the room in silence, leaving Reid still lying in a pile of wet towels.
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Reid gasped and looked at Nick in horror. He brought his other hand to his mouth, touching his throbbing lip and then tensing at the sight of the bright red blood on his fingertips. All thoughts of escape dissolved as he found himself once again frozen with pain and fear.
He cried out as Nick grabbed a rough handful of his hair and pulled, making his feet scrabble to move with him. Nick had never hit him in the face before which meant that he had lost all of the restraint he had previously shown. And if Nick no longer had any control over what he was doing, then he could really hurt him.
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Nick was usually very careful. He made sure that the bruises wouldn’t show - he never marked Reid’s neck or his face. Instead he punched his chest, his stomach, his back. Sometimes he would hit him on the tops of his arms, or his legs, or slap the inside of his thighs, his backside. Reid covered up so nothing would show - long sleeves, long pants, watch worn over his sleeve in case the fabric rode up.
When he thought about how calculating this was, how easy Nick found it to control him, Reid felt sick inside. But he couldn’t leave. He had nowhere to go and nobody else to love and take care of him.
And the bruises faded, taking the stinging and aching with them. Yes, it hurt like hell getting them, but there was no permanent damage done. The hair pulling could be excruciating, but nobody had ever died of a tender scalp.
When Reid started pissing blood, however, he knew he had to visit the Emergency Room.
The staff were very attentive, performing scans and reassuring him that the fall from a horse he had suffered did not seem to have caused any long term damage. He was prescribed painkillers and advised to rest.
Reid was sitting in a cubicle, waiting for his paperwork when the nurse who had examined him originally came back in. She smiled warmly and asked to look at Reid’s abdomen again.
“You say that you fell from a horse?” asked the nurse.
“Uh, yeah,” replied Reid. “I’m not much of a rider.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t hurt your hands,” said the nurse with a quizzical frown. She ran her hands lightly over the yellow bruising on Reid’s chest and side.
“I guess I am,” muttered Reid, turning his head away from her questioning gaze.
She finished examining him, and he pulled his shirt closed, fumbling with the buttons in his discomfort.
When his shirt was refastened, she put a leaflet into his hand. Reid glanced down at it: What you can do if you are experiencing domestic violence. He looked up at the nurse, open mouthed.
She took a breath and then spoke quickly, thrusting her hands in her pockets as she did so. “It looks to me like someone is hurting you. You’ve got older contusions and I can see the imprint of a fist in the marks on your back. Believe me when I tell you - he won’t stop, not ever. You need to get out and find someplace safe to go because this isn’t your fault and you don’t deserve it.”
Screwing up the leaflet and dropping it onto the bed, Reid stood up. He looked down at the floor as he spoke. “Thank you for your concern, but nobody is hurting me. I fell off a horse - I’m clumsy.”
With that, he hurried out of the ER, and made his way quickly to a coffee shop. There he sat in the window seat for hours, processing what the nurse had said and thinking about what he was going to do.
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Reid gasped as Nick pulled hard on his hair, forcing his head upwards.
“Look in the mirror,” hissed Nick. “Look at yourself.”
Reid flinched at the reflection; he could see his own pale face, with dark circles under his eyes and blood trickling from his cut and swelling lip. Behind him was Nick - his handsome features twisted with fury. What had happened to the sweet loving man he had met all those months ago?
“What do you see, Spencer? What are you, huh?”
“I don’t know,” whimpered Reid, wincing as Nick tightened the grip on his hair.
“Oh, you’re a genius aren’t you? IQ of 187, eidetic memory, three doctorates - yadda, yadda, yadda.” Nick spat the words out. “But do you know what you really are? You’re just another stupid junkie.”
Reid bit back a yelp as Nick pulled sharply on his hair. “You’re a dumb junkie who would still be begging for a fix if it wasn’t for me dragging you out of it. You owe everything to me, you ungrateful bastard.”
“I’m not a junkie,” whispered Reid, trying to twist out of Nick’s hold.
In response, Nick jerked his head backwards and then slammed his face into the glass. When Nick pulled his head back again, Reid could see his blood smeared on the mirror. His face crumpled in pain.
Just then Reid’s cell phone started to ring and both of them froze.
Nick pulled it out of his pocket and smirked at the caller ID. “Hotch,” he said, pressing the phone into Reid’s hand, “Better answer it.”
Reid stared at the phone in his hand, trying to focus and find the button to answer the call. It rang again and vibrated against his skin.
“Remember,” said Nick softly, “If you say anything to him, I will shoot you in the balls and let you bleed to death. You’ll be beyond saving by the time anyone gets in here.”
Swallowing hard, Reid pressed answer and lifted the phone to his ear, feeling the cold metal of his gun pressing into his crotch. “Reid,” he said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.
“Reid - I’ve been looking at the files that the LAPD sent over to us and there are some details that I want to discuss with you. I know it’s late, but I practically drive past your place - can I call in and drop them off? We could talk about them when you’ve had a look.”
“Um, Hotch, this isn’t a good time right now,” said Reid, his voice wobbling. “I’m a bit busy.”
“Reid - is everything okay?” asked Hotch, his voice low with concern.
“Yeah, I’m just, um, busy.” He tried to keep his breathing under control, to keep his voice from rising with fear. Nick pressed the gun harder into the top of his thigh.
Hotch was persistent. “Tomorrow then?”
Reid thought quickly and then spoke, trying as hard as he could to sound casual. “You could try looking at the Karl Arnold files and maybe, um, Maggie Lowe. They might give you an idea of what you are looking for.”
Hotch sounded puzzled. “Okay,” he said, warily. “What are you getting at?”
Reid could feel his heart beating faster and hoping desperately that Nick wouldn’t realise and that Hotch would understand, he added, “Ervin Robles - read that file as well. There won’t be much time though.”
“Reid?” asked Hotch.
“I have to go now. I’m busy,” replied Reid quickly, ending the call and hoping that Hotch would connect the dots.
Nick snatched the phone out of his hand and turned it off. Then he dropped it onto the floor and stamped on it hard, smashing it into several pieces. Reid gulped. If Hotch didn’t get it, he was screwed.
“Poor little profiler,” purred Nick, dragging the gun up Reid’s body. “All alone and unarmed. Where’s your boss now?”
Part Two
Author: nebula99
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: FRAO/NC-17
Type: Slash
Pairing: Reid/OC, Reid/Hotch
Prompt: "Poor little profiler - all alone and unarmed. Where's your boss now?"
Kink: H/C, rescue after attack - prompted by hawk_dancing for rounds_of_kink
Challenge: No Way Out for 10_cliche_fics
Warning: Deals with domestic abuse and contains graphic scenes of violence - if that is going to trigger or disturb you, please don’t read it.
Author’s Note: Thank you to slash_girl for the beta and for lots of helpful suggestions and discussions.
Red Mist
Whatever is begun in anger, ends in shame.
Benjamin Franklin
Spencer Reid was tired, exhausted even. He scrubbed at his eyes as he closed the door of his apartment, trying to ignore the pile of boxes that he had still to unpack. He sighed, figuring that he had lived without this stuff being in storage for so long now, another few days in boxes shouldn’t matter. He’d moved in with such a rush that he’d only dealt with the urgent matters, not even getting his landline connected yet - but that could wait for another day. He hadn’t needed to use it these past few weeks anyway.
The case they had just finished had been gruelling, both physically and emotionally. Everyone had worked almost until they had dropped because a monster was killing children and he had to be stopped. Luckily, this time they had won and Gregory Dale was facing a lifetime in a maximum security facility. However, the hunt had proved exacting and Reid was so tired he could almost vomit.
He unclipped his holster and placed his gun in his messenger bag, hanging it up next to the door as he always did. Then he checked the bolt was across the door and trudged into the bathroom, turning on the shower and undressing quickly, leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor.
The hot water felt good, washing away dirt that clung after three days immersed in an investigation of this kind. His skin felt clean and his brain felt slightly less dirty, which was as much as he could ask for. Reid dried himself briskly and, wrapping a towel around his waist, walked straight into his bedroom to pull on sweatpants and a t-shirt. The shower had taken the edge off his exhaustion, making him suddenly aware that he was hungry. Reid combed his damp hair off his face and started to walk across his tiny living room to the kitchen area to fix himself something to eat.
As he switched on the overhead light, a voice made him turn towards the couch. A voice that made him cold inside.
“Good evening Spencer,” said the smiling man who was sitting there. “Long time, no see.”
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Reid had been browsing in a chaotic second hand bookstore when he had bumped into Nicholas Hamilton. He greeted him with a warm smile. “Nick,” he said, genuinely pleased to see him. “It’s Spencer - do you remember me?”
The dark haired man beamed at him. “Of course I do,” he replied. “You look a lot better - how are things?”
“Good,” nodded Reid. “Three weeks and four days.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned.
“Nearly a month then - congratulations,” said Nick, checking his watch. “Listen, do you want to grab a coffee?”
As Reid hesitated, Nick placed a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m not your counsellor anymore, so there’s no professional boundaries to worry about. This is just coffee, between friends.”
“Thanks,” said Reid. “I’d like that.”
Reid had met Nick at a needle exchange nearly a month previously and had spoken to him about his decision to withdraw from Dilaudid on his own. Nick had insisted that Reid come for at least one counselling session and had talked through the withdrawal process in detail with him, making sure that he understood just how difficult it might be. He had reassured Reid that he could call - any time of night or day - and had followed this up by being a lifeline at the most tough and painful moments.
Of course, while Reid had noticed how attractive Nick was, he hadn’t allowed himself to think about him like that. Getting through the withdrawal had been his priority. Now, however, he was over the worst and ready to enjoy his life again.
Nick was easy to talk to and what’s more, he was interested in Reid. The coffee turned into dinner and at the end of the evening, Nick had taken Reid’s number and had called him as soon as he got home.
Reid was both flattered and a little overwhelmed, but Nick was good at putting him at his ease and what was more, he understood the aspect of Reid’s life that he had kept hidden from everybody else. It was okay to talk about the drugs with Nick because he understood and his compassion with his constant assurances that Reid was beautiful and lovable were seductive. Nick made him feel good - about how he looked, how he acted and most importantly, he made him feel that he could stay clean. Nicholas Hamilton was the best thing that had happened to Spencer Reid in a very long time.
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Reid stared at the man in his apartment. This could not be happening. His mouth had gone dry and his fingers had curled automatically into fists. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Oh yeah,” replied the man, holding up a crumpled piece of paper. “Your restraining order. Guess you’d better call the cops then.” He smirked. “Only it expired and you never got around to getting a permanent one. Why is that, Spencer? Didn’t want to face me in court?”
“How did you find me?” said Reid hoarsely. He knew he should do something, call for help or run, but he couldn’t move. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
The man snickered. “You covered your tracks pretty well,” he acknowledged. “It wasn’t easy to hunt you down. Luckily, I like a challenge, so I hopped on a plane to Vegas and went to see Mommie Dearest.”
Reid went pale. “You did what?” he gasped.
“Don’t worry,” said the man airily, waving his hand, “The Nutty Professor is quite safe. Still crazy but in one piece. We had a nice chat and she showed me your letters and I made a little note of the return address on the latest one. Then it was just a matter of asking that nice old lady downstairs for a spare key because I’d left mine at work.” He shook his head. “Really Spencer, you should be more careful. I could have been anybody.”
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From their first date, Reid and Nick’s relationship had snowballed rapidly into something serious, something consuming. Nick told Reid that he loved him, that he loved spending time with him, that he loved having sex with him and Reid thought that he must have fallen for Nick. Whenever he wasn’t at work, he was with Nick and he was constantly amazed that his boyfriend wanted to spend so much time with him. Reid’s previous experience of relationships was limited - he’d never got further than a few dates - but he knew enough to realise that this was pretty special.
For the first time in his life, Reid felt cared for and loved for who he was. Nick knew everything about him and he still loved him - which meant he must have a very generous heart. Reid knew he was lucky to have him.
After six whirlwind weeks, Reid moved in with Nick. His lease had expired and his landlord had doubled his rent and so Nick suggested he move in with him to save money while looking for another place. There wasn’t much room for Reid’s stuff, so he packed it up and put most of it in storage, taking only his clothes and a few books to Nick’s apartment.
They had such good times together, just the two of them and the sex was amazing. Admittedly, Nick could be a little bit rough in bed sometimes and he hurt Reid on occasion, but he was so apologetic if Reid mentioned it that after a while he kept quiet. Nick wouldn’t have meant to hurt him - he just got swept along with the passion. It wasn’t as if it was anything serious.
He knew that he could stay clean while he had Nick. His boyfriend understood what he had been through, what a struggle it was to quit and he knew how fortunate he was to have someone like that in his life. No-one at work could have understood like he did. And nobody at work had ever told him that he was beautiful.
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Reid tried to push down the panic rising in his throat. This was his home and this man had no right to be here. He had taken this apartment because it was cheap and available right away and the relief he had felt on locking the door behind him that first night was wonderful.
Nick had no right to come in here and spoil it. They were through.
Reid tried to think like an FBI Agent. He could get his gun and handcuffs from his bag, make an arrest and call for back up. As he took a step towards his messenger bag, Nick let out a derisory snort.
“Looking for these?” he asked, holding up Reid’s Glock and his cell phone. “You’re so predictable Spencer,” he tutted. “Are you gonna call 911 now?”
Reid glanced towards the house phone but it was useless with no connection. “How long have you been here?” he asked, edging back towards the door.
“Long enough,” smiled Nick. “I knew you’d put your gun in your bag and hang it up and I knew you’d leave your key in the door. That’s the beauty of having lived with you for all those months.”
Reid took another sideways step towards the door. “What do you want, Nick?” he asked. “It’s over between us.”
Nick stood up and turned Reid’s gun over in his hand. “No,” he said, “You don’t get to decide that. I say when it’s over and I say when you can leave. You can’t run out on me one day when I’m at work, getting a lawyer to do your dirty work for you. That’s just plain rude.”
Reid gulped. He’d seen Nick in a rage plenty of times before, but this icy calmness was something new, something scary. “Nick,” he said, holding out his palms, “Please put the gun down and we can talk.”
Nick took a step closer to Reid, caressing the barrel of the Glock as he spoke. “Talk? Why would I want to talk to you, Spencer? You took out a restraining order against me! I’ve done nothing but love you and look after you and this is how you repay me?”
Reid stared at him. He was locked in his apartment with no way of getting out, trapped with the man he was still terrified of. His palms were sweating and he was trembling. Cursing his fear, he tried to act like a profiler. He needed to get Nick on his side - and get him out of the apartment.
“Okay,” said Reid, speaking slowly and trying to keep the wobble out of his voice. “Why don’t I put some different clothes on and we can go out? Let’s go and have some dinner and we can talk about it.”
“Oh sure,” said Nick, lowering the gun and tucking it into his waistband. “Let’s go out.”
Reid’s shoulders dropped and the relief flooded his face. He’d done it. Now all he needed was to find a way to call the police when they were outside. He tried to smile convincingly. “Great!” he said, turning towards the bedroom. “There’s a lot of things to discuss.”
In a flash, Nick had crossed the room and grabbed his arm in a tight hold. “Don’t try that psychobabble bullshit with me, Spencer - remember I know what you do for a living? You can’t talk your way out of this one.”
Horrified, Reid looked at him with wide eyes. Nick’s fingers were digging into his skin, squeezing tighter as Reid tried to pull his arm away. “Please Nick, don’t,” he whispered.
A cold smile spread across his ex’s face and Reid felt his insides turn to ice water. He recognised that look.
-------------------------------------------
At first there had been random flashes of temper - Nick slamming his fist down on the counter or shouting. It always made Reid flinch but it didn’t particularly worry him. He’d lived with a paranoid schizophrenic for years so Nick’s sudden mood changes and volatility were nothing compared to Diana’s behaviour. Reid reasoned that Nick was a passionate person - someone who loved him fiercely and so of course he lost his temper sometimes. It was no big deal.
And Nick was always so loving and so concerned; calling Reid everyday when the team were away, wanting to know when he’d be home, and checking that he was okay. It was nice having someone care that much.
Then, after the team had flown back from a case, they had all decided to go for a drink. Reid stayed for one and then caught the train home, surprised to see that Nick didn’t rush to greet him as soon as he came through the door.
“You’re late,” snarled Nick, glaring at him. “Been with Hotch, have you?”
“I’m sorry,” frowned Reid, puzzled by the response. “We just went for a drink after work.”
“Spencer,” said Nick sharply, “You’re in recovery. You should have just come home - how am I supposed to keep you clean if you go out drinking with him?”
“I had one drink!” replied Reid with a laugh. “One drink isn’t going to-“
He broke off as Nick grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him towards him. “Don’t you dare laugh at me,” snapped Nick.
“Ow,” said Reid, trying to pull away from the painful grip. “Nick - you’re hurting me.”
“I’m hurting you, am I?” shouted Nick, pulling Reid hard so that the young man stumbled. “You don’t come home late - do you understand?”
Reid staggered and tried again to pull his arm away. Nick was hurting him and he didn’t understand what was going on. He stared at his lover, wondering what on earth he had done to make him so mad. “Nick, please let go of my-“
The punch to the stomach made him double over in pain and shock. Nick still had a hold of his arm and he hit him hard in the stomach and side several times before flinging Reid violently away from him.
Still bent over and clutching at his stomach, Reid fell to his knees, coughing and gasping for air. There were tears in his eyes and he was still trying to process what had just happened. When he looked up, he saw Nick standing over him, fists clenched and face contorted in fury. “Don’t you ever fucking dare laugh at me!” yelled Nick, before leaning down and slapping Reid hard around the back of his head.
Reid stayed kneeling on the floor, arms curled protectively around his stomach and his head bent forwards. He winced in pain and tried hard to bite back the tears that were threatening to fall. Nick had just hurt him and he had no real idea why.
He stayed on the floor for a while, too shocked and hurting too much to move anywhere. Nick had stormed out of the room and Reid wasn’t too sure what to do. He couldn’t believe what had just happened.
For what seemed like ages, Reid knelt on the cold tiled floor, crying quietly with shock and pain. Nobody had ever hit him like that; he’d never even been spanked as a child, partly because his mother didn’t believe in it and partly because he was an incredibly well behaved little boy. He wondered what on earth had happened to make Nick so angry with him.
Sometime later, Nick came and sat next to him, sliding a warm arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. There were apologies and hugs and earnest assurances that he would never do anything like that again and Reid even apologised for being late. They cuddled on the kitchen floor until Nick helped Reid to his feet and led him gently to bed. Trying not to wince, Reid crawled gratefully into Nick’s arms in bed, reassuring himself that Nick had only gotten mad because he loved him so much. And Nick had promised that he would never do anything like that again.
The next day, Reid came home from work to find the apartment full of the scent of fresh roses and home baking. Nick greeted him with a kiss and presented him with a gift of an Asimov first edition. Reid smiled and embraced his lover, ignoring the bruises and taking comfort in the knowledge that Nick still loved him.
Afterwards, he wondered why he had been so forgiving when every instinct in him should have been screaming at him to leave. But at the time, leaving didn’t seem like an option. He was in love and being loved in return for the first time and he couldn’t bear to jeopardise that. Nick cherished him and Nick was making sure he stayed clean and those were reasons enough to stay.
And besides, Nick had promised that it would never happen again.
------------------------------------
Reid hated that he was pleading with Nick already. He knew how this always played out and yet every time he still attempted to keep the peace - trying to appease him, agreeing with him, sometimes just plain begging him, but none of it had ever worked.
And now Nick was here, in the apartment he wasn’t supposed to know about. Reid glanced towards the kitchen - if he could get out of this grip, he could make it. There were weapons in there and he could hold Nick off, get some help. He shifted his weight onto his back foot, ready to drop and twist out of Nick’s hold - Morgan had always made this stuff look so easy.
Taking stock of his escape route, Reid took his eyes off Nick. The smack in the mouth with the butt of his gun made him wish that he hadn’t.
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After that first incident, Nick was attentive, generous, gentle. They had some good times and the sex just got better. Reid still felt uncomfortable about what had happened, but he relied on Nick so much that he didn’t mention it, for fear of sparking a fight. Nick was the one who was keeping him clean - he had been told that enough - and Nick was the only person who thought he was beautiful, sexy and lovable.
But then there was another fight, another baffling flare of temper at something Reid thought was trivial and another bout of violence. This too was followed by tears and apologies and protestations of love and so the cycle continued.
Reid quickly learned not to provoke Nick, not to disagree with him, not to be late home, not to put white sugar in his coffee, not to use the remote. He tried as hard as he could to keep things on an even keel, to keep the mood light and loving, to have days with his boyfriend that were fun and ended in bed, rather than days which terrified him and ended with tears. He had to keep Nick happy, it was the only way.
But despite all Reid’s efforts, it wasn’t enough. Some days he just couldn’t do anything right. Coming back after a brutal case in LA, he wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and sleep for an entire weekend. So when Nick stood behind him, massaging his shoulders and kissing the back of his neck, Reid smiled at him, tipping his head and resting his cheek on Nick’s hand, murmuring, “That’s nice, but I’m exhausted. I need to sleep.”
There was a tightness in Nick’s voice. “I’m running a bath - I thought we could take it together. I haven’t seen you for three days.”
Tentatively, Reid said, “I’m all yours tomorrow - but really, I’m no good to anybody tonight.”
The pull on his hair made him gasp out loud. “Nick, what are you doing?” he asked, his head being yanked back.
In response, Nick punched him sharply in the small of his back, following up with another. “I want you to have a bath with me,” said Nick icily, giving Reid’s hair a sharp pull and then letting go abruptly.
Stunned and sore, Reid turned to Nick, confusion and betrayal in his eyes.
“We are having a bath together,” snapped Nick. “You need to get undressed.” Then he spun around and strode out of the room.
Moving slowly, wincing from the pain in his back, Reid took off his clothes. There was no point in arguing when Nick was in this kind of mood - he got his own way in the end, so he may as well just give in now and save himself the misery of a fight. He needed Nick and he needed him not to be mad at him.
In the bathroom, Reid took off his robe and climbed into the bath where Nick was already waiting for him. He settled in between Nick’s legs and sat still with his head bowed.
Nick gently washed and conditioned Reid’s hair and then pulled him firmly back so that he lay against Nick’s chest. Nick stroked a finger down Reid’s cheek. “I only get mad because I love you - you know that, right?” he said.
“Yeah, I know,” muttered Reid, too tired and too unwilling to fight to give any other response.
He closed his eyes and tried to relax into Nick’s embrace. He didn’t want to look down at the old bruises speckling his torso, or at the proprietary hand Nick had placed on his thigh.
“You need me, Spencer,” continued Nick in a soft voice. “Nobody else would love you like I do - nobody else would even look at you. I see the real Spencer - the rest of them have no idea.”
Reid nodded, his eyes still closed. At first, these phrases used to sound so comforting - now they sounded like Nick owned him. But without Nick, he would be all alone and last time he’d been alone, he had wound up addicted to Dilaudid.
He felt Nick’s hand slide across his thigh, taking hold of his cock, squeezing and massaging.
“We belong together, Spencer,” murmured Nick, entwining his fingers in Reid’s wet hair, “And you know you’re no good without me.”
Reid was silent and so Nick tugged a little on his hair. “You can’t ever leave me,” said, his voice a little louder.
“I won’t,” replied Reid automatically.
“Good,” said Nick, pulling more sharply on Reid’s hair. “Because if you ever do, I’ll kill myself and it will be all your fault.”
Reid’s eyes snapped open. He stayed perfectly still, not daring to move as Nick let go of his cock and walked his fingers slowly up his chest to his nipple.
Reid pulled a face as Nick pinched his nipple sharply but he didn’t cry out. “Do you understand me, Spencer?” purred Nick, “Because I don’t think you want my blood on your pretty hands, do you?”
“I won’t leave you,” said Reid in a trembling voice.
“Good,” replied Nick, pinching his nipple hard again. “That’s good.”
Afterwards, Nick fucked him face down on the bathroom floor. Nick barely bothered preparing him and it hurt like hell. When he’d finished, exited the room in silence, leaving Reid still lying in a pile of wet towels.
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Reid gasped and looked at Nick in horror. He brought his other hand to his mouth, touching his throbbing lip and then tensing at the sight of the bright red blood on his fingertips. All thoughts of escape dissolved as he found himself once again frozen with pain and fear.
He cried out as Nick grabbed a rough handful of his hair and pulled, making his feet scrabble to move with him. Nick had never hit him in the face before which meant that he had lost all of the restraint he had previously shown. And if Nick no longer had any control over what he was doing, then he could really hurt him.
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Nick was usually very careful. He made sure that the bruises wouldn’t show - he never marked Reid’s neck or his face. Instead he punched his chest, his stomach, his back. Sometimes he would hit him on the tops of his arms, or his legs, or slap the inside of his thighs, his backside. Reid covered up so nothing would show - long sleeves, long pants, watch worn over his sleeve in case the fabric rode up.
When he thought about how calculating this was, how easy Nick found it to control him, Reid felt sick inside. But he couldn’t leave. He had nowhere to go and nobody else to love and take care of him.
And the bruises faded, taking the stinging and aching with them. Yes, it hurt like hell getting them, but there was no permanent damage done. The hair pulling could be excruciating, but nobody had ever died of a tender scalp.
When Reid started pissing blood, however, he knew he had to visit the Emergency Room.
The staff were very attentive, performing scans and reassuring him that the fall from a horse he had suffered did not seem to have caused any long term damage. He was prescribed painkillers and advised to rest.
Reid was sitting in a cubicle, waiting for his paperwork when the nurse who had examined him originally came back in. She smiled warmly and asked to look at Reid’s abdomen again.
“You say that you fell from a horse?” asked the nurse.
“Uh, yeah,” replied Reid. “I’m not much of a rider.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t hurt your hands,” said the nurse with a quizzical frown. She ran her hands lightly over the yellow bruising on Reid’s chest and side.
“I guess I am,” muttered Reid, turning his head away from her questioning gaze.
She finished examining him, and he pulled his shirt closed, fumbling with the buttons in his discomfort.
When his shirt was refastened, she put a leaflet into his hand. Reid glanced down at it: What you can do if you are experiencing domestic violence. He looked up at the nurse, open mouthed.
She took a breath and then spoke quickly, thrusting her hands in her pockets as she did so. “It looks to me like someone is hurting you. You’ve got older contusions and I can see the imprint of a fist in the marks on your back. Believe me when I tell you - he won’t stop, not ever. You need to get out and find someplace safe to go because this isn’t your fault and you don’t deserve it.”
Screwing up the leaflet and dropping it onto the bed, Reid stood up. He looked down at the floor as he spoke. “Thank you for your concern, but nobody is hurting me. I fell off a horse - I’m clumsy.”
With that, he hurried out of the ER, and made his way quickly to a coffee shop. There he sat in the window seat for hours, processing what the nurse had said and thinking about what he was going to do.
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Reid gasped as Nick pulled hard on his hair, forcing his head upwards.
“Look in the mirror,” hissed Nick. “Look at yourself.”
Reid flinched at the reflection; he could see his own pale face, with dark circles under his eyes and blood trickling from his cut and swelling lip. Behind him was Nick - his handsome features twisted with fury. What had happened to the sweet loving man he had met all those months ago?
“What do you see, Spencer? What are you, huh?”
“I don’t know,” whimpered Reid, wincing as Nick tightened the grip on his hair.
“Oh, you’re a genius aren’t you? IQ of 187, eidetic memory, three doctorates - yadda, yadda, yadda.” Nick spat the words out. “But do you know what you really are? You’re just another stupid junkie.”
Reid bit back a yelp as Nick pulled sharply on his hair. “You’re a dumb junkie who would still be begging for a fix if it wasn’t for me dragging you out of it. You owe everything to me, you ungrateful bastard.”
“I’m not a junkie,” whispered Reid, trying to twist out of Nick’s hold.
In response, Nick jerked his head backwards and then slammed his face into the glass. When Nick pulled his head back again, Reid could see his blood smeared on the mirror. His face crumpled in pain.
Just then Reid’s cell phone started to ring and both of them froze.
Nick pulled it out of his pocket and smirked at the caller ID. “Hotch,” he said, pressing the phone into Reid’s hand, “Better answer it.”
Reid stared at the phone in his hand, trying to focus and find the button to answer the call. It rang again and vibrated against his skin.
“Remember,” said Nick softly, “If you say anything to him, I will shoot you in the balls and let you bleed to death. You’ll be beyond saving by the time anyone gets in here.”
Swallowing hard, Reid pressed answer and lifted the phone to his ear, feeling the cold metal of his gun pressing into his crotch. “Reid,” he said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.
“Reid - I’ve been looking at the files that the LAPD sent over to us and there are some details that I want to discuss with you. I know it’s late, but I practically drive past your place - can I call in and drop them off? We could talk about them when you’ve had a look.”
“Um, Hotch, this isn’t a good time right now,” said Reid, his voice wobbling. “I’m a bit busy.”
“Reid - is everything okay?” asked Hotch, his voice low with concern.
“Yeah, I’m just, um, busy.” He tried to keep his breathing under control, to keep his voice from rising with fear. Nick pressed the gun harder into the top of his thigh.
Hotch was persistent. “Tomorrow then?”
Reid thought quickly and then spoke, trying as hard as he could to sound casual. “You could try looking at the Karl Arnold files and maybe, um, Maggie Lowe. They might give you an idea of what you are looking for.”
Hotch sounded puzzled. “Okay,” he said, warily. “What are you getting at?”
Reid could feel his heart beating faster and hoping desperately that Nick wouldn’t realise and that Hotch would understand, he added, “Ervin Robles - read that file as well. There won’t be much time though.”
“Reid?” asked Hotch.
“I have to go now. I’m busy,” replied Reid quickly, ending the call and hoping that Hotch would connect the dots.
Nick snatched the phone out of his hand and turned it off. Then he dropped it onto the floor and stamped on it hard, smashing it into several pieces. Reid gulped. If Hotch didn’t get it, he was screwed.
“Poor little profiler,” purred Nick, dragging the gun up Reid’s body. “All alone and unarmed. Where’s your boss now?”
Part Two