𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒚

Prologue

𝙴𝚛𝚒𝚗 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚜' 𝙾𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎

𝙱𝙰𝚄 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚀𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚘, 𝚅𝙰

𝙹𝚊𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝟻, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟸

𝟹:𝟺𝟷 𝙿.𝙼.

The air was thick and heavy with tension as Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU sat at a desk next to his boss SSA Aaron Hotchner and his colleague Agent Jennifer Jareau, stood a little behind them. Across from them was the director, Erin Strauss, aka the bitch boss baby who tries to ruin everything.

Spencer's leg bounced up and down at a quick pace, while the clock ticked louder and louder as time passed. Strauss stared straight at him, causing him to glance around, nervous. His ignorance of the situation had put him at a disadvantage.

"Dr. Reid do you know why you're here?" Strauss finally broke the loud silence with her strict and firm voice.

"Uh, no, no I'm not aware," his hand that had been fidgeting with the other, came up to his face and wiped at his eyes. A tic he had when he was frustrated or upset.

"It has been brought to our attention that your struggles with addiction to dilaudid may... interfere with your performance out in the field or while on cases," as the director spoke, Spencer's head shot up. "This being said, instead of firing you, we are gracing you with mercy and instead letting you off with a warning, a watchful eye, and mandatory attendance to addiction therapy and support groups. Have you tried getting help before?"

The sudden approach of something so sensitive, and personal to him had startled him.

"Uh, I'm sorry?" He asked, sitting up a little straighter, alert of everything around him.

"Have you gone to places before, to get help for your addiction?"

"Yes, I've gone to meetings and things like that," he looked over to his boss, who only nodded in response. Then he looked up to his friend, JJ, in confusion. The pain of betrayal in his eyes, reflected as guilt in hers.

"Then you know everything and the rules and all the steps," She looked over at Hotch, nodded, and then looked down at her papers again. "Dr. Reid, this is for the best and you should be grateful we haven't let you go just for that. Get help, get sober. You're great at what you do, and it really would be such a shame if you had to leave," Strauss stood up, dismissing the three. JJ and Hotch walked out first and waited for Spencer.

After a few moments of deep thought about what just happened, Spencer finally stood up and walked out of Strauss's office. Instead of walking with Hotch and JJ, however, he walked straight to Hotch's office.

He paced back and forth, fidgeting, and massaging his temple. The lights were bright and causing him an intense migraine.

"Is there something wrong, Reid?" Hotch said as he entered his office. Reid's head shot up to his boss.

"Hotch, I'm not using! I've-"

"I know you aren't, but when you get in an argument with JJ in the middle of a police precinct about thinking about relapsing for everyone to hear, there was nothing else I could do. If I didn't report to the higher ups, one of those police officers would've, because they have to shove their noses in every single thing no matter what," he muttered that last part under his breath.

"So why was JJ there, huh? So she could see me almost get fired? Is this her way of getting back at me for yelling at her?"

"Reid, it's not like that and you know it. She was there because she was directly involved in the argument. You told her about thinking of using again," his voice was calm and level, just like the rest of his appearance was showing. His thoughts were racing inside his head, though. He was concerned for Spencer.

"And why do y'all even care now? It's not like y'all tried to get me help five years ago, after I was abducted and act-"

"Reid, I have many regrets in life. And one of those is not getting you the help that you need. Now was my chance to make things right and get you that help. Please, this team needs you, you're family. We can't lose you. Especially to..." Hotch couldn't finish his sentence. The mere thought of losing the youngest member of the team to something as dangerous and grotesque as dilaudid, absolutely terrified him. "Please, Spencer. Just talk to someone, this job is hard enough as it is."

Spencer looked down at his hands and sighed, "Fine," he said. And with nothing else he walked away, grabbing his coat and his brown, leather bag, leaving the bullpen and stepping in the elevator.

Later that night, in his apartment, he sat down on his couch looking for therapists near his complex. And after hours of granola bars, and searching, and bananas, and more searching, he finally found a doctor that was qualified yet cheap enough for him.

His name was Dr. Adam Vidaurri, and he specialized in addiction and trauma. He was highly recommended and had great reviews. Spencer contacted him, and they scheduled an appointment for the next afternoon.

Turning in for the night, after switching off the lights and brushing his teeth, he slipped into some button up monster pajamas. He laid in his bed, with his mind going a mile a minute.

Lights flashed through the window from the cars driving on the street. Slowly, after tossing and turning, his vision clouded and his eyelids became heavier and heavier. Giving in to sleep, Spencer let the dark and frightful dreams take over, pulling him into morning.