𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘. ( 𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧 )

chapter seventeen

TW: mentions of ptsd, mentions of murder, mention of substance abuse, mild language

discussions, part one of one.

" it does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop " - confucius

Genevieve and Spencer sat in silence as she drove through the dark streets. They had just landed back in Virginia from a particularly gruelling case - a Ranger vet experiencing a major psychotic break due to his PTSD, had been killing those he perceived as threats. Initially, they had been under the impression that their Unsub had been a homeless man defending his territory, but after an almost-victim of their Unsub came forward to report his would-be death, they started piecing together that they were looking for a military vet.

However, during the window when they had been speculating a homeless Unsub, Hotch had sent Emily and Spencer to check out a nearby homeless shelter. And Emily had come back, looking mildly shaken up, and Spencer, in a foul mood.

Genevieve had asked Emily what had happened, and she stated that Spencer had unnecessarily shared case information with civilians, scaring them, and when she tried to confront him about it, he had shouted her down.

She wasn't blind - she knew that ever since Hankel, Spencer had been acting differently. She hadn't been able to get much out of him about the abduction, but, from studying his behaviour, it was clear to her that he was struggling with an addiction. She didn't know what the addiction was, though. All she knew was that it was getting out of hand, which is why she'd insisted on driving him home instead of him taking the bus like he usually did.

And he wasn't stupid - he knew that she'd probably figured it out. But he didn't say anything, waiting for her to speak first.

"Spencer, after you shot Tobias... I saw you slip something into your pocket," She started hesitantly, taking her eyes off the road to look at him. He was visibly angry - his lips were pressed into a hard, firm line, his carotid was basically jumping out of his skin, and his fists were clenched so hard that his knuckles were white. "I figured... I don't even know what I thought it was. I was just more focused on you being alive. And you are. Alive, I mean. So, now, I think it's time to focus on what you put into your pocket,"

"I'm not stupid," He mumbled. She frowned at his response, unsure of where he was coming from.

"Spencer, of course, I know that, what are you-"

"You think that I haven't caught you staring at me? Analysing my behaviour? You aren't very subtle," He snapped. "You've been doing it ever since I was cleared for duty. And you wouldn't confront me unless you had your own theories about what was going on. So tell me. What do you think is happening,"

"Spencer-" He didn't even let her utter one word.

"Tell me!" He repeated loudly, causing her to flinch.

"Look, I don't know," She lied, wanting to hear it from him instead of sharing her thoughts. "But Emily told me about what happened at the shelter. You broke the golden rule: we never tell civilians more than what they absolutely need to know. Spencer, whatever it is you're going through, it's getting out of hand. But I'm here to help you-"

"I know the rules," He said snidely. She sighed and pulled her car over. She didn't want to have this conversation while she was driving.

"Spencer, what happened to you?" She looked at him imploringly. His hands were shaking violently. He noticed her watching his hands, so bashfully shoved them under his thighs and out of sight. His eyes were rimmed red, and his nose and cheeks were pink as a rose. But he didn't look sad. Just tired.