FIC: But a Shadow (Part Two)
Part One
Reaching his apartment in the early hours of the morning, Reid was so exhausted that he fell asleep fully clothed on his bed.
He awoke suddenly a couple of hours later, having dreamed again about a shadowy hooded figure. He didn’t have to go into work, so got changed and spent the day pottering in his apartment, sorting through a pile of mail and then writing to his mother. He didn’t mention the dreams.
He had been uneasy for most of the day. He had heard odd noises, sounds that could have been whispers and had consequently turned up his music until he heard nothing else. He was trying so hard to spend his day normally.
Spencer Reid was not going to believe that his apartment was haunted, or possessed or infested with something unworldly. That was just not possible. His senses were unreliable as a result of his being so tired; that was all it was.
He wasn’t really hungry, so he ate some dry cereal out of the packet. Then he decided to take a bath before going to bed.
Reid hadn’t replaced the shower curtain. He had thought about it, but couldn’t bring himself to, so it was folded neatly in the corner of the bathroom. He either took a bath at home or showered at work.
He ran the bath and eased himself into the warm water. Cocooned in its protective atmosphere, he felt the tension slip away at last. He was safe here.
Reid wriggled his body down the tub until only his head rested out of the water. The wetness lapped at his chin and he leaned his head back on a folded towel. The warmth permeated his limbs and he closed his eyes - just to enjoy it for a moment.
But his eyelids were so heavy and the bath was so warm and he was so tired.
Reid’s breathing slowed and deepened. His limbs became limp and his jaw slack. His chin dipped below the water line as his chest rose and fell rhythmically.
His body slipped a little deeper under the water. Gradually it covered his lips and then his head dropped. The warm bathwater pulled him a little further under.
Suddenly Reid’s hands flew into the air as his head was dragged underneath. He opened his eyes and looked up in panic at the distorted view of the bathroom ceiling. He kicked out automatically and began to thrash and struggle, the need for air twisting his hands into claws. Somehow he managed to grab hold of the sides of the tub and push down, finally enabling him to lift his head out of the water.
Sitting hunched over, Reid drew gasping breaths, shaking as water dripped from his mouth and nose. With a trembling hand, he reached up to push his soaking wet hair out of his eyes. The air felt uncomfortably cold and so Reid hauled his body out of the tub, reaching for a towel.
He wrapped one round his waist and began to dry his hair with another. He couldn’t believe he had just fallen asleep and nearly drowned in the bath. He shivered, skin goosepimpling in the chilly air. He needed to pull himself together - he was 26 years old and had been taking care of himself for a very long time.
He was not going to start falling apart now.
He slapped himself hard on each cheek and then pinched the inside of his arms. He was awake. He breathed in and out a few times. He was here, in his apartment and everything was fine. He was just getting ready for bed like a normal person.
Reid yawned and wearily decided to just brush his teeth and go to bed. He turned to the sink, noticing the shadow thrown onto the wall by his bathroom cabinet. The edges seemed fuzzy, blurring onto the white tiles. He shuddered and pinched his arms again.
As he ran cold water into the sink, he became aware of sounds in the background. It was quiet at first, but he turned off the faucet and concentrated and gradually the sounds became sharper and more distinct and he could hear the words.
Thou shalt not kill
Vengeance is mine saith the Lord
Thou shalt not kill.
Horrified, Reid looked around. There was nobody there. He backed away until he hit the bathroom wall and then slid slowly to the floor, his spine bumping on the icy tiles.
Thou shalt not kill. Thou shalt not kill.
Thoushaltnotkill.
ThoushaltnotkillThoushaltnotkillThoushaltnotkillThoushaltnotkillThoushaltnotkillThoushaltnotkill
Whimpering, Reid shrank back against the wall. He brought his hands up to cover his ears but he could still hear it.
ThoushaltnotkillThoushaltnotkill
He looked around the room, eyes darting to each corner. He had to make it stop. He could see the shadows on the wall start to move and swell. He clenched his fists and yelled “I’m sorry!” but it still didn’t stop.
Reid cowered in the bathroom, pressing his forehead against his knees and wrapping his arms over his scalp. The shadows were coming closer, he could feel it and the repeated commandment was ringing about the room. He was going to die here as punishment for what he had done.
In desperation, he started to whisper Latin verses he had read a long time ago. “Crux sancta sit mihi lux, non draco sit mihi dux . . . “ His voice faltered and he quashed a sob rising his throat. “Vade retro satana, numquam suade mihi vana, sunt mala quae libas, Ipse venena bibas . . . “ Reid’s voice trailed off as he reached the end of the prayer.
For a moment he sat trembling, waiting for the shadows to envelop him. Then, realising that it had gone quiet, he lifted his head and peeped out. The shadows had returned to their usual shape and the atmosphere had stilled. Relief flooded through him, shooting out to soften each limb. It had worked.
He wasn’t sure how long he slumped there, too tired to get up. His body was heavy and floppy and he sprawled, half supported by the wall, like a marionette with the strings cut. He sat until the cold of the tiled floor seeped through the towel and the chill spread through his body. Then he got slowly to his feet and leaned against the cool bathroom wall, looking down at his shaking hands. He felt dreadful.
He glanced suspiciously at the cabinet and the shadow it was casting on the wall. It looked normal but he knew how quickly the normal could become terrible. He grabbed his sweatpants from the bathroom floor and put them on before heading to the kitchen.
He quickly returned with a toolkit that he had been given as a present when he moved in. Reid opened the cabinet and quickly emptied the shelves, piling the medicines and toiletries in the corner of the room. Then he began to try to unscrew the cabinet from the wall.
The screws were tight and had been painted over, making it difficult to loosen them. So Reid took a hammer and with a few hard hits managed to crack the wooden frame and knock the cabinet crashing to the floor.
Then he gathered up the splintered pieces of wood and piled them into a black plastic garbage bag. He dumped it in the kitchen and then returned to the bathroom, feeling a small sense of reassurance that the shadow from the cabinet was no longer there.
Feeling drained, he headed for bed. He got quickly under the covers, checking that his door was wide open and that he could see the lights from the bathroom, hallway and kitchen. He felt for the bear under the covers and rested his hand on the familiar worn plush, falling quickly asleep.
-----------------------------------------------
Reid managed a few hours of fitful sleep before waking in a tangle of bed sheets, his head aching. He felt slightly guilty at the sight of all the lights on as daylight crept in through the windows, but quickly got up and switched them off. Then he ran a shallow tepid bath and washed himself very quickly, crouching in the water and shivering as it lapped against his skin.
It was Sunday but he almost hoped for a call to drag him into work. He didn’t want to stay in his apartment on his own, but he didn’t really know where else to go. His home felt treacherous - there was something rotten here. Usually he spent his free time reading or playing games but he was struggling to concentrate. He knew he should eat, but he wasn’t hungry and he hadn’t been shopping, so there was very little food in his cupboards. He drank coffee instead.
Reid was almost tempted to call Morgan or Garcia, to see if they would come over and spend the day with him. But he didn’t. They would think he was crazy.
He was restless and found himself studying the shadows that the bright sun cast onto his walls. He forced himself to touch them, to run his fingers over the painted surface, feeling the smooth plaster underneath shiny exterior. The shaded parts felt no different to the brighter areas - they were just darker parts of the wall.
Reid spent most of the day writing and rewriting the prayer of St Benedict, and taping copies of it around his apartment. It was the closest he could come to an exorcism and as he wasn’t actually religious, it seemed inappropriate to try much harder. He felt uncomfortable enough having borrowed a Catholic ritual for purely self-centred reasons.
-----------------------------------------------
It was a relief to be able to go to work on Monday morning. Reid arrived at 6.00 am and took a shower before anybody noticed he was there.
He spent the day with his head down, working through a pile of paperwork. His stomach growled occasionally but there was nothing he wanted to eat. He forced down a couple of crackers, hiding behind the door in the break room so that nobody would see him.
Despite the sweater vest and chunky knit cardigan, he was still cold. He stifled a yawn and pulled the thick woollen comforter closer across his chest. He was so tired. He didn’t want to be here and he didn’t want to go home either.
Reid had finally acknowledged to himself that there was something haunting his apartment. There was a presence there, a malevolent spirit and he felt sure that the spoken Latin amulet was not going to be sufficient to remove it. He could bury the things he had done as deep as he liked, but they would still rise up. There were just too many.
Philip Dowd was dead because of him.
Tobias Hankel was dead because of him.
Randall Garner was dead because of him.
Mike and Pam Hayes were dead because of him.
JJ had nearly died because of him.
He picked up his pen and started to write. If he wrote it all down, maybe he would understand what to do.
After a short while, he became aware of Hotch and Morgan talking a few feet away. Hotch’s brow was furrowed and Morgan’s jaw was tight. Reid strained his ears and began to catch his name being mentioned, over and over again. Almost every other word was “Reid”. He knew he couldn’t tell them what was going on; Morgan would laugh and Hotch - Hotch might be understanding but he would have no choice. Hotch would have to suspend him from duty.
Very conscious that he needed to act as normal as possible, he stood up slowly and walked to the break room. He poured himself a cup of coffee and began to methodically tap sugar into the black liquid. A voice made him jump.
“Cookie?” asked Emily, holding a bag out to him.
Reid shook his head. “I’m not hungry,” he replied, pressing his body back against the counter.
“Spencer Reid refuses snacks?” laughed Emily. “Are you sick?”
Reid didn’t answer and Emily’s expression changed to one of concern. She leaned closer. “Seriously, you look awful,” she said. “Should you even be here?”
Reid shrugged and looked into his mug. “I’m not sleeping well,” he mumbled.
Emily’s voice was soft. “When did you last take some time off?” she asked.
“I can still do my job,” replied Reid quickly, clutching the hot coffee tightly in his hand. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“I know that,” said Emily, stepping back. “I know you can do your job. But you could have a vacation - go and visit a friend perhaps?”
She was only being nice, he knew that. But he ignored her and hurried out of the break room.
Reid spent the remainder of the day writing and trying to get up the courage to speak to Hotch. Finally he knocked on the Unit Chief’s office door and presented him with a vacation request form. Hotch scanned it quickly, signed it and handed it back to him.
“Going anywhere fun?” asked Hotch.
Reid shrugged. “Depends on what you call fun,” he replied and scurried out of the room.
He arrived home nervous but determined. He had got what he needed and he knew what he had to do.
-------------------------------------------------------------
The telephone call had unsettled Hotch. He wasn’t surprised that Reid had named both him and Gideon as emergency contacts but he had been hoping that the young man was on vacation somewhere relaxing - and by the sounds of it, he wasn’t.
Hotch grabbed his coat and headed through the bull pen towards the elevators. He debated who to ask to come with him and decided on Emily - she and Reid got on well these days and he knew Reid had spoken to her before. She quickly agreed and they both got into Hotch’s car and drove through the traffic and into Washington.
Reid’s landlady, Mrs Roland, was waiting for them at the entrance to the building. She was plump and kindly and shook their hands enthusiastically as Hotch did the introductions.
“He’s never been any trouble,” insisted Mrs Roland, “Always pays his rent on time. Such a quiet young man.”
“Do you always take emergency contact details for your tenants?” asked Hotch as he peered down the dark corridor.
Mrs Roland smiled at him. “My tenants are usually young people, new to the city and on their own. I make sure I have someone to call if they need it.”
Emily nodded. “What’s been going on?”
Mrs Roland led them up the stairs. “It started with the lady below him complaining to me about the noise - which surprised me because Dr. Reid is so quiet. Anyway, she said that his music was getting awful loud and when she knocked on his door, he didn’t answer it.”
They came to Reid’s floor and Mrs Roland continued, jiggling the keys in her hand. “And this week, he hasn’t collected any of his mail but I know he’s here. There’s been a lot of noise - banging and music - and when I came up to knock on his door, he was shouting at someone.”
They reached the door to the apartment and paused outside it. “Then there’s the electricity meter,” sighed Mrs Roland. “His meter has been spinning round like crazy but I can’t get hold of him to talk to him about it.” She looked nervously at Hotch. “I hope I’ve done the right thing here. I don’t want to get him into trouble or nothing - I’m just worried for him. He’s very young.”
Hotch nodded. “You did the right thing,” he reassured her. “We just want to make sure he’s OK.”
Hotch turned and rapped on the door with his knuckles. “Reid?” he called. “It’s Hotch.”
They all listened and could hear music coming from the apartment, but the door remained unopened. Hotch tried knocking again, but there was no reply. Mrs Roland handed him a key.
Emily spoke quietly to him. “Do you think we should go in? What if he’s just partying?”
Hotch raised an eyebrow at her. “The best-case scenario is that there is nothing wrong - we look like idiots and Reid never speaks to either of us again. On the other hand, if there is something wrong, and there more than likely is, then we need to do something.”
Hotch unlocked the door and slowly turned the handle, opening it slightly. “Reid?” he called, moving his hand to his gun.
Mrs Roland gasped and Emily patted her arm reassuringly. “It’s just a precaution,” she murmured.
The door moved suddenly and Reid stood peering round it. Hotch and Emily holstered their weapons and they all stared at him.
Hotch was the first to recover himself. “Can we come in?” he asked gently. Reid nodded and after he had thanked Mrs Roland, Hotch led Emily into Reid’s apartment.
Closing the door behind her, Emily turned to Reid. “So,” she said, “You cut your hair.”
Reid looked away and ran his hand over his shaven scalp. “It was easier,” he replied.
Emily nodded and then joined Hotch in wandering around the apartment in stunned silence.
It was incredibly bright - there were lights and lamps everywhere, their beams bouncing and reflecting off each surface. The bulbs must have all been 100 watts and both Hotch and Emily found themselves shielding their eyes. Most of Reid’s furniture had gone and there was a heap of bulging black plastic bags in the centre of the living room.
Hotch moved to the music centre and switched it off, before turning to Reid. “What is going on?” he asked gently.
Reid had his arms wrapped around his chest and was bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet. He looked past Hotch and frowned, then darted forwards to adjust a lamp. “Shadows,” he muttered, “Have to get rid of them.”
Reid continued to fiddle with the lamps, turned and twisting them to redirect the beams of light. He brushed a finger over one of the bulbs and flinched, bringing it to his mouth and sucking at the burnt digit.
Hotch tried again. “Reid,” he said in a low voice, “Why are you worried about shadows?”
“Because he hides in them,” hissed Reid. “And then he comes out.”
“Who does?” asked Hotch. He was trying to remain calm.
“Raphael.” Reid’s voice had dropped to a whisper and he looked around nervously. “He came in my dreams and now he waits in the shadows.”
Hotch moved to make eye contact with Reid. “Raphael is dead,” he told him.
Reid nodded. “Mmm,” he replied. “Dead - but not gone.” He scratched at his arms.
Hotch’s stomach knotted. He sighed and then moved to speak closely to Emily. “I’m going to call a doctor,” he told her. “Reid is not well.” Then he took out his cell phone and strode into the hallway.
Emily tried to smile brightly but it was hard. Not well was an understatement. She knew he had been more withdrawn and he had lost weight, but she had not expected this. She looked at the pieces of paper taped around the room. “Is this Latin?” she asked, trying to make casual conversation.
Reid nodded. “The prayer of St Benedict.” He gave a sigh and his shoulders dropped. “I thought it might work to keep him away, but it’s not enough. I know this sounds crazy but he’s haunting me.”
“Are you sure?” asked Emily. “You’ve been under a lot of strain recently.”
“Of course I’m sure!” snapped Reid, anger flaring on his gaunt face. “I’ve seen him. Do you think I would make that up?”
“No,” replied Emily hastily. Then she changed the subject. “When did you last eat something?”
Reid shrugged and then staggered slightly, taking hold of the back of his couch with both hands.
Hotch returned, replacing his cell phone in his pocket. “Reid,” he said, holding out his hand, “Why don’t you come with us? We can take you to see a doctor.”
Reid frowned at them both. “I’m not sick,” he said. He took a couple of swaying steps and then stumbled. Hotch grabbed his arm to prevent him from falling.
Emily thought quickly. “You could do with some rest,” she said. “And the lights are very bright at a hospital. There are no shadows there.”
Reid looked wide-eyed at them both and then nodded. “I’m so tired,” he whispered.
“Shoes?” asked Emily, looking around.
Reid pointed to the corner of the room. Hotch looked at the pile of shoes and his eyes closed for a moment in despair. The uppers had been cut from all of them, leaving nothing but exposed insoles.
“There were shadows inside them,” mumbled Reid, leaning heavily against Hotch.
Emily found him a pair of thick socks and then waited as Hotch led Reid out of the apartment. Before she followed, she switched off all the lights. There were so many of them.
She shuddered as the apartment became dark, feeling a chill creep across her body.
As they left the building Reid stumbled and then his legs bent as his body slithered towards the ground. Hotch caught him and lifted him tenderly into the backseat of his car.
Reid looked up at him. “I’m so tired,” he breathed.
Hotch nodded. He understood.
-----------------------------------------------------
Reid was still shivering, even in the almost tropical heat of the hospital. His hands pinched at the skin on his forearms in a concerted effort to keep himself awake. He had to make somebody believe what had been going on. He had tried to ask Emily to get a priest to come to his apartment, but she had just nodded sadly at him. He didn’t think she had understood what he meant. An exorcism needed someone who truly believed; an agnostic cutting and pasting Catholic rituals obviously didn’t work.
The door opened and a smiling nurse came in. “Hello, Dr. Reid,” she said warmly. “My name is Joanne. I’m just going to take a few details from you.”
“I’m just tired,” he replied, seeing her nod at him. She was young and her neatly pressed uniform exuded efficiency, but there was empathy in her voice.
He answered the questions, all the while scanning the room for shadows. The fluorescent tubes buzzed reassuringly in the ceiling and he began to relax a little. The questions continued and so did his answers, but he wasn’t really thinking about what he was saying.
“Are you in any pain?”
Reid noticed a curtain hanging in the corner of the room, shadowing the wall behind it. He tried not to worry about it, but found his eyes increasing drawn to it, watching it like a sentry.
“Are you taking any medication?” asked Joanne kindly.
Reid mumbled a negative reply, frowning at the dark shape on the wall. He needed to see if it was moving.
Joanne continued, “And are you sleeping? How many hours a night do you sleep?”
Reid shrugged. He leaned a little to one side to get a better view of the shadow. The edges were beginning to change shape.
Joanne wrote something, her pen scratching on the large pad of paper she was holding. Then she looked up at him. “Are you eating regular meals?” she asked.
Fixated on the shadow, he didn’t answer her. Instead, he stared past her shoulder as tendrils of darkness cracked along the wall and then pushed out into the interior of the hospital room.
This could not be happening here. He was supposed to be safe here.
Joanne’s voice had grown a little louder. “Dr. Reid?” she asked.
Reid didn’t reply. He was staring, open mouthed as the shadow swelled and stretched into the familiar hooded figure. He froze as Raphael moved behind the nurse and lifted a pale finger to his mouth.
“Shhhh.”
Reid tried to warn her but his voice just cracked and all he could manage was a croaked pleading. “Please.”
Then his ears were filled with rushing sounds and words. He had to save her.
Thou shalt not kill.
Thou shalt not kill.
Thou shalt not kill.
But he couldn’t stop it and then he was kneeling beside her, trying to stem the flow of blood after Joanne had pulled the pen out of her throat. He was aware of Raphael slipping back into the shadows as he screamed for help. The blood was pumping out of the wounds in her neck, bubbling up through the gaps between his fingers and coursing in rivulets across her clothes and onto the floor.
Reid was still yelling when he was dragged away from the dying woman and handcuffed. Again and again he urged them to look in the shadows for Raphael but nobody would listen to him.
----------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------
Hotch took the call from the Clifton T Perkins Hospital Center with resignation. He was still listed as Reid’s emergency contact and he nodded wearily as it was explained to him that Reid had been adjudged Not Criminally Responsible and that he would be committed indefinitely to the hospital. Hotch had been expecting this outcome.
The team had all argued that Reid could not possibly be a killer, but with no other suspect and all the evidence indicating him, the cops had no option but to charge him. Everyone blamed themselves for not doing something sooner.
When Reid had looked in bewilderment at him in the visiting room and said in a small voice “I didn’t do this,” Hotch’s heart had almost broken but there was nothing he could do. He wanted to believe it was the ghost of Raphael, but as everybody knew, there were no such things as ghosts.
Hotch admitted that he could have tried harder to trace Gideon and let him know, but he was still too mad at him to make the effort. He held Gideon’s abandonment of Reid to be the final trigger for this breakdown and decided that his former friend had done enough damage already.
Hotch thought about how he would break the news to the others. This year, there had been a whole battalion of sorrows to bear and, though they all coped in their own ways, this last blow was going to be a hard one to take. He sat still for what seemed a long while. Then he rose from his desk, habitually brushed his suit jacket, and strode out of his office into the corridor.
In the conference room, the team were waiting.
--------------------------------------------------
One need not be a chamber to be haunted
One need not be a house
The brain has corridors surpassing
Material place.
Emily Dickinson