Five Stages 1/1
Title: Five Stages 1/1
Author: buffyaddict13
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: R for language
Pairing/Characters: Gen, Reid, JJ, Gideon, Morgan, Garcia
Summary: Hankel has Reid, and various members of the BAU deal with their grief in their own way.
A/N 1: A tag for 2x15 Revelations. This comes about 2 years too late, but I had to get it out of my head. Sorry. Thank you to riverbella for the lightning fast beta and kind words.
But the silence at the end is not the silence of death itself, or ultimate withdrawal, but of acceptance.
~Benjamin Zander
1. Denial
Gideon paces the moldy bathroom. He doesn’t see the torn shower curtain, the smear of blood on dingy tiles. He see’s Reid’s face, his eyes as they roll up into his head. The stillness. Gideon paces, hands moving through the air, as if he can shape truth, make truth out of nothing.
He did the right thing.
Reid knew the risks. He was naïve about some (so many) things, but not the job. Gideon couldn’t leave the video up, couldn’t have those deaths be seen as entertainment--or worse--a victory for Hankel. Hankel doesn’t get to win.
Doubt’s voice is faint but clear. Hankel won the moment Reid stopped--the moment he stopped--
His hands slice the air, divide the doubt, erase the fear. He did the right thing.
He did.
2. Anger
The sight of Reid handcuffed and bleeding turns Morgan’s world red. Literally. He’s been pissed before, plenty. He’s been angry. He’s been furious. With his dad for dying. With his momma for not hearing what Derek couldn’t tell her. With Buford for...everything.
But this is a new level of rage. The room spins; he swims through a thick fog of anger, works to focus on the computer screen. He can feel the shock and horror too, but they’re removed from him, they belong to somebody else. It’s like feeling the look in Emily’s eyes, or the tic in Hotch’s jaw.
Hankel is a dead man. And yeah, Charles is dead, but Tobias is gonna follow in daddy’s footsteps. Cuz this? Is fucked up. This is--
There’s not a word for how fucked up this is. Or, if there is, Reid’s the only one who knows it. Reid. His co-worker. His friend. Reid’s the kid brother he always wanted. Okay, maybe Morgan was hoping for someone a little less genius and a little more willing to toss a football and bullshit about the Bears. But he has Reid, and that’s fine, that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
This? Is not.
The anger is in Morgan’s throat now, and it’s too big, too hot, too much. It hurts like a bitch.
On the screen Hankel punches Reid again, tells him to choose one to die and save a life and Morgan wants nothing more than to punch that crazy fucking bastard right back until Hankel’s jaw breaks. Or Morgan’s hand. Whichever comes first.
“I’m gonna put his head on a stick,” Morgan seethes, and he had no idea he was going to leave until his fist connects with the door, until his boots stomp across scuffed floor, until his shoulder shoves the screen door open and he’s standing outside.
A light breeze presses cool fingers against his neck. The sky is riddled with clouds, the sun a wan, sickly circle. Morgan digs his hands into his pockets, rocks forward on the balls of his feet. He wants to scream. He wants to pray. He wants Reid back, safe.
But all he has is anger.
3. Bargaining
They stand huddled around Garcia, all except Gideon. Someone is saying no no no no no and it takes her a moment to realize the words are coming from behind her own fingers. (Reid. ) This isn’t happening. (On the floor.) No. (Not getting up.)
She’s dimly aware of JJ standing beside her, the sound of crying, but Penelope refuses to give in to tears. There’s no point because Reid’s not dead. He can’t be. Her heart thuds in her chest, in her ears, a steady thud thud thud thud. The sound of Reid’s head and shoulders on the floor. She swallows, trembling hands still pressed to her mouth.
Through the desperation, the paralyzing fear that this is really happening she thinks: there’s a reason. There’s always a reason. Everything happens for a reason. But as she listens to JJ cry she has no idea what it could possibly be.
Her chest hurts, her stomach feels like it‘s been turned inside out. And that‘s when she realizes she does know the reason. Ever since she saw Nathan Harris lying on that bed covered in blood, ever since she heard Reid’s panicked screams for an ambulance, she’s been a little more reserved with him. A little distant. And it’s not Reid’s fault that the blood, the sirens, make her think of her parents. Their deaths were completely different, but it doesn’t matter; her brain makes a connection where none exists.
She would give anything to undo that distance, to pull Reid close and wrap him in a bear hug while he squirmed in protest. She would do anything to be able to reach through the screen and take his hand. What good is the fact she can hack into any computer; she can see Reid but she can’t save him?
Penelope reaches for the blue Ugly Doll lying beside the monitor. She is careful not to look at the screen, not to see Reid, eyes staring, silent (dead). She holds the doll to her chest and thinks Please, please I’ll do anything. I’ll tell him I’m sorry, I’ll go to see Nathan, I’ll take a course in physics. Just give me a chance.
She doesn’t believe in some bearded grandfatherly image of God. If there is a God, he’s totally cooler than that. He looks like Nathan Fillion. Or--better yet--David Bowie. Ground control to Major Tom, please give me another chance, she prays. I’ll be there for Reid, I won’t freak out. I’ll do whatever Hotch needs, I’ll let Gideon use my office for a month--a year--just please don’t take Reid away.
She wipes her face, lifts one hand to the screen. She presses her fingers over Reid’s still form, wills strength (life) into him. Don’t take him yet.
4. Depression:
When Morgan stalks out of the room JJ stares at his back, and then, when he’s gone, the place he stood. The grease-stained wall stares back. She can hear Garcia and Hotch in the next room. She can hear the growl of dogs. She can hear Morgan’s voice say it looks like he was dragged. JJ doesn’t understand how she can be standing here, in this dirty, stinking kitchen, inside this broken house, while Reid is simply gone.
Vanished.
She sinks into a wobbly-legged chair beside the table, rests her head in her hands. She spent her whole life striving, learning, desperate to better herself, to make a life she can be proud of. To make a difference.
That’s all gone now.
She can hear Reid stuttering through an awkward attempt to ask her to a Redskins game. She can hear herself tell him it’s better if they’re just friends. And to her, the words are not an excuse or platitude, she means them. Reid is her friend. And friends stick by each other. Co-workers stick by each other. FBI agents stick by each other. She has failed on all three counts.
She sits in a kitchen where a man systematically destroyed his son, twisted him into something--someone--else. So what in God’s name is Tobias doing to Reid?
Her stomach clenches tight as a fist and she closes her eyes. She wants to sleep for a thousand years. She wants to take a shower. She wants to cry. She will not let herself do any of these things. Not until Reid is safe.
Morgan doesn’t have to say the words; she knows this is all her fault. One day Morgan might forgive her. Hotch might forgive her. And if they find Reid safe, maybe he’ll forgive her.
But she will never forgive herself.
5. Acceptance.
A sense of relief comes with the confession. He is relieved that the pain will stop; but more than that, he is relieved to admit the truth, that he is responsible for his mother’s committal to Bennington. She had begged him to let her stay (Spencer, please. These are my things.) and he had forced her to go. Worse, wanted her to go. That is his sin. He had wanted the weight of her illness off his shoulders. The irony is, his mother is gone, but the weight isn’t.
Until now.
Charles Hankel gently removes the handcuffs and Reid’s penance waits at the bottom of a shallow grave.
“Grab a shovel, boy,” Hankel says.
Reid’s hands tremble and his head pounds. His foot burns, each step filled with glass. But he takes the shovel.
Outside the cabin the moon is a bright coin. The air is sharp and smells of lilacs. This is the last night he’ll see. The last walk he’ll take. The last pain he’ll feel.
He doesn’t know if Hotch understood his message. He doesn’t know if Gideon understood the clue about the poacher. He’s no longer sure he wants them to. His eyes sting and the needle tracks along his arm itch what feels like more more more.
Hankel tells him to dig and he does. The earth is hard, unwilling to make this final task an easy one.
He digs, but through the pain, the more, the thirst, the fear, is an overwhelming weariness. It clings to his skin like sweat. He has never been this tired in his life. All he wants to do is lie down. He doesn’t believe in God, but he’s ready to accept God’s will. He digs slowly, awkwardly, and gradually, the ground opens.
This is one darkness Reid’s not afraid of.
Author: buffyaddict13
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: R for language
Pairing/Characters: Gen, Reid, JJ, Gideon, Morgan, Garcia
Summary: Hankel has Reid, and various members of the BAU deal with their grief in their own way.
A/N 1: A tag for 2x15 Revelations. This comes about 2 years too late, but I had to get it out of my head. Sorry. Thank you to riverbella for the lightning fast beta and kind words.
But the silence at the end is not the silence of death itself, or ultimate withdrawal, but of acceptance.
~Benjamin Zander
1. Denial
Gideon paces the moldy bathroom. He doesn’t see the torn shower curtain, the smear of blood on dingy tiles. He see’s Reid’s face, his eyes as they roll up into his head. The stillness. Gideon paces, hands moving through the air, as if he can shape truth, make truth out of nothing.
He did the right thing.
Reid knew the risks. He was naïve about some (so many) things, but not the job. Gideon couldn’t leave the video up, couldn’t have those deaths be seen as entertainment--or worse--a victory for Hankel. Hankel doesn’t get to win.
Doubt’s voice is faint but clear. Hankel won the moment Reid stopped--the moment he stopped--
His hands slice the air, divide the doubt, erase the fear. He did the right thing.
He did.
2. Anger
The sight of Reid handcuffed and bleeding turns Morgan’s world red. Literally. He’s been pissed before, plenty. He’s been angry. He’s been furious. With his dad for dying. With his momma for not hearing what Derek couldn’t tell her. With Buford for...everything.
But this is a new level of rage. The room spins; he swims through a thick fog of anger, works to focus on the computer screen. He can feel the shock and horror too, but they’re removed from him, they belong to somebody else. It’s like feeling the look in Emily’s eyes, or the tic in Hotch’s jaw.
Hankel is a dead man. And yeah, Charles is dead, but Tobias is gonna follow in daddy’s footsteps. Cuz this? Is fucked up. This is--
There’s not a word for how fucked up this is. Or, if there is, Reid’s the only one who knows it. Reid. His co-worker. His friend. Reid’s the kid brother he always wanted. Okay, maybe Morgan was hoping for someone a little less genius and a little more willing to toss a football and bullshit about the Bears. But he has Reid, and that’s fine, that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
This? Is not.
The anger is in Morgan’s throat now, and it’s too big, too hot, too much. It hurts like a bitch.
On the screen Hankel punches Reid again, tells him to choose one to die and save a life and Morgan wants nothing more than to punch that crazy fucking bastard right back until Hankel’s jaw breaks. Or Morgan’s hand. Whichever comes first.
“I’m gonna put his head on a stick,” Morgan seethes, and he had no idea he was going to leave until his fist connects with the door, until his boots stomp across scuffed floor, until his shoulder shoves the screen door open and he’s standing outside.
A light breeze presses cool fingers against his neck. The sky is riddled with clouds, the sun a wan, sickly circle. Morgan digs his hands into his pockets, rocks forward on the balls of his feet. He wants to scream. He wants to pray. He wants Reid back, safe.
But all he has is anger.
3. Bargaining
They stand huddled around Garcia, all except Gideon. Someone is saying no no no no no and it takes her a moment to realize the words are coming from behind her own fingers. (Reid. ) This isn’t happening. (On the floor.) No. (Not getting up.)
She’s dimly aware of JJ standing beside her, the sound of crying, but Penelope refuses to give in to tears. There’s no point because Reid’s not dead. He can’t be. Her heart thuds in her chest, in her ears, a steady thud thud thud thud. The sound of Reid’s head and shoulders on the floor. She swallows, trembling hands still pressed to her mouth.
Through the desperation, the paralyzing fear that this is really happening she thinks: there’s a reason. There’s always a reason. Everything happens for a reason. But as she listens to JJ cry she has no idea what it could possibly be.
Her chest hurts, her stomach feels like it‘s been turned inside out. And that‘s when she realizes she does know the reason. Ever since she saw Nathan Harris lying on that bed covered in blood, ever since she heard Reid’s panicked screams for an ambulance, she’s been a little more reserved with him. A little distant. And it’s not Reid’s fault that the blood, the sirens, make her think of her parents. Their deaths were completely different, but it doesn’t matter; her brain makes a connection where none exists.
She would give anything to undo that distance, to pull Reid close and wrap him in a bear hug while he squirmed in protest. She would do anything to be able to reach through the screen and take his hand. What good is the fact she can hack into any computer; she can see Reid but she can’t save him?
Penelope reaches for the blue Ugly Doll lying beside the monitor. She is careful not to look at the screen, not to see Reid, eyes staring, silent (dead). She holds the doll to her chest and thinks Please, please I’ll do anything. I’ll tell him I’m sorry, I’ll go to see Nathan, I’ll take a course in physics. Just give me a chance.
She doesn’t believe in some bearded grandfatherly image of God. If there is a God, he’s totally cooler than that. He looks like Nathan Fillion. Or--better yet--David Bowie. Ground control to Major Tom, please give me another chance, she prays. I’ll be there for Reid, I won’t freak out. I’ll do whatever Hotch needs, I’ll let Gideon use my office for a month--a year--just please don’t take Reid away.
She wipes her face, lifts one hand to the screen. She presses her fingers over Reid’s still form, wills strength (life) into him. Don’t take him yet.
4. Depression:
When Morgan stalks out of the room JJ stares at his back, and then, when he’s gone, the place he stood. The grease-stained wall stares back. She can hear Garcia and Hotch in the next room. She can hear the growl of dogs. She can hear Morgan’s voice say it looks like he was dragged. JJ doesn’t understand how she can be standing here, in this dirty, stinking kitchen, inside this broken house, while Reid is simply gone.
Vanished.
She sinks into a wobbly-legged chair beside the table, rests her head in her hands. She spent her whole life striving, learning, desperate to better herself, to make a life she can be proud of. To make a difference.
That’s all gone now.
She can hear Reid stuttering through an awkward attempt to ask her to a Redskins game. She can hear herself tell him it’s better if they’re just friends. And to her, the words are not an excuse or platitude, she means them. Reid is her friend. And friends stick by each other. Co-workers stick by each other. FBI agents stick by each other. She has failed on all three counts.
She sits in a kitchen where a man systematically destroyed his son, twisted him into something--someone--else. So what in God’s name is Tobias doing to Reid?
Her stomach clenches tight as a fist and she closes her eyes. She wants to sleep for a thousand years. She wants to take a shower. She wants to cry. She will not let herself do any of these things. Not until Reid is safe.
Morgan doesn’t have to say the words; she knows this is all her fault. One day Morgan might forgive her. Hotch might forgive her. And if they find Reid safe, maybe he’ll forgive her.
But she will never forgive herself.
5. Acceptance.
A sense of relief comes with the confession. He is relieved that the pain will stop; but more than that, he is relieved to admit the truth, that he is responsible for his mother’s committal to Bennington. She had begged him to let her stay (Spencer, please. These are my things.) and he had forced her to go. Worse, wanted her to go. That is his sin. He had wanted the weight of her illness off his shoulders. The irony is, his mother is gone, but the weight isn’t.
Until now.
Charles Hankel gently removes the handcuffs and Reid’s penance waits at the bottom of a shallow grave.
“Grab a shovel, boy,” Hankel says.
Reid’s hands tremble and his head pounds. His foot burns, each step filled with glass. But he takes the shovel.
Outside the cabin the moon is a bright coin. The air is sharp and smells of lilacs. This is the last night he’ll see. The last walk he’ll take. The last pain he’ll feel.
He doesn’t know if Hotch understood his message. He doesn’t know if Gideon understood the clue about the poacher. He’s no longer sure he wants them to. His eyes sting and the needle tracks along his arm itch what feels like more more more.
Hankel tells him to dig and he does. The earth is hard, unwilling to make this final task an easy one.
He digs, but through the pain, the more, the thirst, the fear, is an overwhelming weariness. It clings to his skin like sweat. He has never been this tired in his life. All he wants to do is lie down. He doesn’t believe in God, but he’s ready to accept God’s will. He digs slowly, awkwardly, and gradually, the ground opens.
This is one darkness Reid’s not afraid of.