Diagnosing the Disease [FanFic]
Title: Diagnosing the Disease
Author: Tooks
Pairing: Hotch/Reid
Rating: FRT
Summary: Reid is determined to confirm his concerns about Hotch's recent behavior change
Notes: This is AU!! It may be submitted to the darkficprompts community. It will, very likely, be part of something bigger.
Reid saw it first…clear as day he saw it. The detached, glazed over look, the late arrivals, the early departures after a case, and the overall withdrawn behavior all worked to point Reid to the determination that Hotch’s problems extended beyond the loss of his ex-wife and all that pain and sorrow that was attached to The Reaper. Reid’s guess at the problem wasn’t anything he was willing to share with the rest of the team until he was sure…that it was what it was and that there wasn’t another solution.
He set his plan in motion the moment they got a new case, discreetly pushing Morgan towards the idea of having team members share hotel rooms in exchange for staying at a better place than normal. It worked and Reid immediately offered to share with Hotch, which Morgan, if the man’s smile was any indication, thought was Reid’s attempt at getting closer to the other agent. Morgan wasn’t completely wrong, though Reid doubted his friend could guess at the true reason behind his desire. To save his friend from himself…
Hotch brought the bags up to the room while Reid finished checking in for them. The moment he was alone he began to unpack - he never could live directly out of his bag like some of the others could - and it was then that he noticed something was missing. Something crucial, something he couldn’t live without. He began to tear through his bag, his worry growing into annoyance into anger into borderline rage as he kicked his bag in frustration.
“What’s wrong?” Reid asked curiously as he entered the room from the door behind the desperate agent.
Hotch turned, his eyes flashing in a rage before quickly relaxing as he forced a smile, “I, um, I think I might’ve forgotten to pack something,” he turned back to his bag to check all the pockets once more, “Not a big issue, just a minor annoyance.”
Reid nodded some before setting Hotch’s key card on the dresser and going to pull his messenger bag off over his head and set in on what would be his bed. “What is it you forgot to pack?”
“What?” Hotch barely looked up at Reid as he continued to search.
“What did you forget to pack, Hotch?
“Some medicine.”
“I thought your treatment for the attack was over a few weeks ago?” The whole team was aware, for a number of months after Foyet’s attack, Hotch had to undergo a drug regime to prevent any possibilities of infection and to help him in dealing with the pain. But that time had passed at least two months ago.
“What are you, my mother?” Hotch snapped, exacerbated that, first, he couldn’t find his Oxycotin and, now, that Reid was bothering him with questions that were absolutely none of the young man’s business.
Reid wasn’t deterred by the outburst, he simply took a moment before pressing on, “No, of course not, but I’m your friend.”
“Then help me look for my bottle.” Hotch ordered much in the same manner as he would while they were working a tense case. He moved onto the clothes he’d put in the draws, checking his spare pants’ pockets and then going to the closet to check the jacket he’d taken off when he first entered the room.
“They…they aren’t there, Hotch,” Reid said with as steady a voice as he could manage. He normally wasn’t nervous around Hotch at all; the man was a trusted friend and, when he’d first joined the team, a protector of sorts. But Reid knew the changes that could take place in someone when their needs to hide from their own pain lead them to try and obliterate reality completely with the use of drugs and then those drugs took hold.
Hotch stopped looking in his jacket pocket and looked over at Reid. For what felt like eternity the senior agent just stared, trying to read Reid. Trying to figure out what the young man knew and what he was guessing at; Hotch wasn’t willing to give up anything that wasn’t already known.
“I took them,” Reid continued.
“Well, return them.”
“No.”
“Damn it, Reid, they aren’t yours!” Hotch snapped once more, shutting the hall closet door before heading over towards Reid, “Now give them back to me.”
Reid stepped back some, moving to put the beds between himself and Hotch as a precaution. “No, Hotch, I can’t.”
“Can’t?” The man’s eyes narrowed almost dangerously.
“Won’t,” Reid corrected himself, his eyes never leaving his friends as his determination set deeper and deeper into his heart. Hotch might hate him for this now, for a long while even, but, in the end, it was what needed to be done. He took a deep breath, shifted some as he tried to stand up straight, and then went bravely on. “You don’t need them anymore and you shouldn’t have them.”
“Is that so?” Hotch closed in more, slipping around the beds as he approached Reid, and though the question was clearly sarcastic, the man did not smile. “And you’ve gathered this from your years researching three-body problems and what, Dr Reid? The philosophy behind life?” He mocked as he got closer still, stopping when just a few feet from Reid.
“No, I gathered it from the years of living I’ve actually done,” Reid replied, still not wavering.
“You mean you think I’m addicted because you were?” Hotch accused, or maybe hit it right on the head, or maybe both. If he were honest with himself, truly honest, he knew that his desire to escape his pains of both body and mind had developed into an unhealthy need for the small green tablets with “OC” stamped on them. But he wasn’t truly honest with himself; the drugs kept him from ever having to be.
Reid seemed to consider the question a moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t know the answer; he just wasn’t sure how Hotch, who seemed to be getting ever closer to him, would take the answer. He licked his lips in worry a moment, then ran a hand through his hair, before finally replying, “I know you’re addicted because I was, Hotch. I know how it started, how it’s progressed, and exactly why it’s continuing.”
“Really?” Hotch arched a brow some, “How about you enlighten me, Dr Reid?” He was now just a foot from the other agent and while it did cross his mind that he might be growing increasingly intimidating it didn’t cross his mind to care. He wasn’t addicted and he didn’t like anyone suggesting otherwise. Addiction required a loss of control that Hotch never allowed himself…a giving over of his fate that he fought Foyet to prevent over and over again. His fate would be always, solely, in his hands. It had to be or else Hotch wasn’t Hotch; he wasn’t the man he’d made himself into through years of hard work and determination. He was…someone, something, else entirely.
Reid still did not back down even while Hotch glared at him. He stood his ground firmly, stubbornly, and answered, “You needed sleep, or maybe just some way to forget…forget everything that happened. Then you found that, without the drugs, everything not only came back but came back tenfold.” Hotch seemed to pause his advance and eye Reid, though his body language let Reid know how thin the ice he was on was. “The problem is soon you’ll find that you’ve been sucked so far into that false world the drugs create to help you cope that nothing’s clear on the drugs, but you’re also too terrified to face the world without them.”
“I’m not an addict,” Hotch growled out, covering the last foot between him and Reid in one step. He nearly towered over Reid at the moment, intentionally standing up straighter than normal to do so.
“You will be,” Reid replied with a surety that he both felt and thought his friend might respect at the moment. He found he was wrong though as he was slammed up and into the wall behind him hard enough that, for a moment, his eyes lost focus.
“I am NOT an addict,” Hotch seethed, holding Reid by the lapels of his jacket in just the manner that, no doubt, hundreds of schoolyard bullies had.
Reid didn’t move, but not because he was stunned. He’d calculated the odds that Hotch’s first reaction to confrontation about something like this, something that could be construed as a form of weakness, would be outright physical aggression and knew it to be high. He didn’t move because he needed to keep Hotch from thinking this would be a battle he could win with brute strength. “But you will be,” he repeated slowly, firmly, and barely above a whisper.
Hotch’s glare intensified as a wave of rage rolled over him, then he sneered. “Fuck you, Reid,” he snarled before letting go of his friend’s clothing with a shove that caused the back of Reid’s head to bounce off the wall. He then turned, grabbed his key card off the dresser, and left the room without another word or look back.
Reid stayed against the wall and watched as the other agent stormed of. When he heard the automatic lock of the hotel room door click he finally let out a breath and leaned forward some as he set his hands on his legs. Only now did he let his slight shakiness over the whole incident show. His theories concerning his friend, a man he’d looked up to for years, were confirmed. The disease was diagnosed. Now came the hard parts, all the ones that actually involved Hotch.
"Drugs are a bet with the mind." ~ Jim Morrison
Next Section:
Breaking the Bonds
If you have time please go to my For Your Consideration post and consider nominating me for cmfanficawards. Thank you!
Author: Tooks
Pairing: Hotch/Reid
Rating: FRT
Summary: Reid is determined to confirm his concerns about Hotch's recent behavior change
Notes: This is AU!! It may be submitted to the darkficprompts community. It will, very likely, be part of something bigger.
Reid saw it first…clear as day he saw it. The detached, glazed over look, the late arrivals, the early departures after a case, and the overall withdrawn behavior all worked to point Reid to the determination that Hotch’s problems extended beyond the loss of his ex-wife and all that pain and sorrow that was attached to The Reaper. Reid’s guess at the problem wasn’t anything he was willing to share with the rest of the team until he was sure…that it was what it was and that there wasn’t another solution.
He set his plan in motion the moment they got a new case, discreetly pushing Morgan towards the idea of having team members share hotel rooms in exchange for staying at a better place than normal. It worked and Reid immediately offered to share with Hotch, which Morgan, if the man’s smile was any indication, thought was Reid’s attempt at getting closer to the other agent. Morgan wasn’t completely wrong, though Reid doubted his friend could guess at the true reason behind his desire. To save his friend from himself…
Hotch brought the bags up to the room while Reid finished checking in for them. The moment he was alone he began to unpack - he never could live directly out of his bag like some of the others could - and it was then that he noticed something was missing. Something crucial, something he couldn’t live without. He began to tear through his bag, his worry growing into annoyance into anger into borderline rage as he kicked his bag in frustration.
“What’s wrong?” Reid asked curiously as he entered the room from the door behind the desperate agent.
Hotch turned, his eyes flashing in a rage before quickly relaxing as he forced a smile, “I, um, I think I might’ve forgotten to pack something,” he turned back to his bag to check all the pockets once more, “Not a big issue, just a minor annoyance.”
Reid nodded some before setting Hotch’s key card on the dresser and going to pull his messenger bag off over his head and set in on what would be his bed. “What is it you forgot to pack?”
“What?” Hotch barely looked up at Reid as he continued to search.
“What did you forget to pack, Hotch?
“Some medicine.”
“I thought your treatment for the attack was over a few weeks ago?” The whole team was aware, for a number of months after Foyet’s attack, Hotch had to undergo a drug regime to prevent any possibilities of infection and to help him in dealing with the pain. But that time had passed at least two months ago.
“What are you, my mother?” Hotch snapped, exacerbated that, first, he couldn’t find his Oxycotin and, now, that Reid was bothering him with questions that were absolutely none of the young man’s business.
Reid wasn’t deterred by the outburst, he simply took a moment before pressing on, “No, of course not, but I’m your friend.”
“Then help me look for my bottle.” Hotch ordered much in the same manner as he would while they were working a tense case. He moved onto the clothes he’d put in the draws, checking his spare pants’ pockets and then going to the closet to check the jacket he’d taken off when he first entered the room.
“They…they aren’t there, Hotch,” Reid said with as steady a voice as he could manage. He normally wasn’t nervous around Hotch at all; the man was a trusted friend and, when he’d first joined the team, a protector of sorts. But Reid knew the changes that could take place in someone when their needs to hide from their own pain lead them to try and obliterate reality completely with the use of drugs and then those drugs took hold.
Hotch stopped looking in his jacket pocket and looked over at Reid. For what felt like eternity the senior agent just stared, trying to read Reid. Trying to figure out what the young man knew and what he was guessing at; Hotch wasn’t willing to give up anything that wasn’t already known.
“I took them,” Reid continued.
“Well, return them.”
“No.”
“Damn it, Reid, they aren’t yours!” Hotch snapped once more, shutting the hall closet door before heading over towards Reid, “Now give them back to me.”
Reid stepped back some, moving to put the beds between himself and Hotch as a precaution. “No, Hotch, I can’t.”
“Can’t?” The man’s eyes narrowed almost dangerously.
“Won’t,” Reid corrected himself, his eyes never leaving his friends as his determination set deeper and deeper into his heart. Hotch might hate him for this now, for a long while even, but, in the end, it was what needed to be done. He took a deep breath, shifted some as he tried to stand up straight, and then went bravely on. “You don’t need them anymore and you shouldn’t have them.”
“Is that so?” Hotch closed in more, slipping around the beds as he approached Reid, and though the question was clearly sarcastic, the man did not smile. “And you’ve gathered this from your years researching three-body problems and what, Dr Reid? The philosophy behind life?” He mocked as he got closer still, stopping when just a few feet from Reid.
“No, I gathered it from the years of living I’ve actually done,” Reid replied, still not wavering.
“You mean you think I’m addicted because you were?” Hotch accused, or maybe hit it right on the head, or maybe both. If he were honest with himself, truly honest, he knew that his desire to escape his pains of both body and mind had developed into an unhealthy need for the small green tablets with “OC” stamped on them. But he wasn’t truly honest with himself; the drugs kept him from ever having to be.
Reid seemed to consider the question a moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t know the answer; he just wasn’t sure how Hotch, who seemed to be getting ever closer to him, would take the answer. He licked his lips in worry a moment, then ran a hand through his hair, before finally replying, “I know you’re addicted because I was, Hotch. I know how it started, how it’s progressed, and exactly why it’s continuing.”
“Really?” Hotch arched a brow some, “How about you enlighten me, Dr Reid?” He was now just a foot from the other agent and while it did cross his mind that he might be growing increasingly intimidating it didn’t cross his mind to care. He wasn’t addicted and he didn’t like anyone suggesting otherwise. Addiction required a loss of control that Hotch never allowed himself…a giving over of his fate that he fought Foyet to prevent over and over again. His fate would be always, solely, in his hands. It had to be or else Hotch wasn’t Hotch; he wasn’t the man he’d made himself into through years of hard work and determination. He was…someone, something, else entirely.
Reid still did not back down even while Hotch glared at him. He stood his ground firmly, stubbornly, and answered, “You needed sleep, or maybe just some way to forget…forget everything that happened. Then you found that, without the drugs, everything not only came back but came back tenfold.” Hotch seemed to pause his advance and eye Reid, though his body language let Reid know how thin the ice he was on was. “The problem is soon you’ll find that you’ve been sucked so far into that false world the drugs create to help you cope that nothing’s clear on the drugs, but you’re also too terrified to face the world without them.”
“I’m not an addict,” Hotch growled out, covering the last foot between him and Reid in one step. He nearly towered over Reid at the moment, intentionally standing up straighter than normal to do so.
“You will be,” Reid replied with a surety that he both felt and thought his friend might respect at the moment. He found he was wrong though as he was slammed up and into the wall behind him hard enough that, for a moment, his eyes lost focus.
“I am NOT an addict,” Hotch seethed, holding Reid by the lapels of his jacket in just the manner that, no doubt, hundreds of schoolyard bullies had.
Reid didn’t move, but not because he was stunned. He’d calculated the odds that Hotch’s first reaction to confrontation about something like this, something that could be construed as a form of weakness, would be outright physical aggression and knew it to be high. He didn’t move because he needed to keep Hotch from thinking this would be a battle he could win with brute strength. “But you will be,” he repeated slowly, firmly, and barely above a whisper.
Hotch’s glare intensified as a wave of rage rolled over him, then he sneered. “Fuck you, Reid,” he snarled before letting go of his friend’s clothing with a shove that caused the back of Reid’s head to bounce off the wall. He then turned, grabbed his key card off the dresser, and left the room without another word or look back.
Reid stayed against the wall and watched as the other agent stormed of. When he heard the automatic lock of the hotel room door click he finally let out a breath and leaned forward some as he set his hands on his legs. Only now did he let his slight shakiness over the whole incident show. His theories concerning his friend, a man he’d looked up to for years, were confirmed. The disease was diagnosed. Now came the hard parts, all the ones that actually involved Hotch.
"Drugs are a bet with the mind." ~ Jim Morrison
Next Section:
Breaking the Bonds
If you have time please go to my For Your Consideration post and consider nominating me for cmfanficawards. Thank you!