Spencer Reid One Shots

Sober (Clairvoyant Disease Part Two)

I don’t know
This could break my heart or save me
Nothing’s real
Until you let go completely

Today was the day you were being released.

Twelve weeks since you’d voluntarily checked yourself in.

Twelve weeks since you’d lain in the bath tub and made the split second decision to slit your wrists.

Twelve weeks since you’d yelled for your boyfriend after almost immediately regretting it, the look on his face as he barged into the bathroom was one you’ll never ever forget. You could replay the thirty minutes that followed over and over in your head. Spencer grabbing for towels and wrapping them around your arms as tightly as he could whilst you waited for the ambulance to arrive, and dragging you out of the bath tub as you both cried. The constant asking of ‘why’ from him, a question which ultimately you couldn’t answer. In that split second, it had seemed like the way out, a way to be done with the never ending cycle of depression that you lived. A way to never have to rely on pills and medication again. A way to never feel that low again.

So here I go with all my thoughts I’ve been saving
So here I go with all my fears weighing on me

You’d passed out in the ambulance, from the loss of blood and when you woke up, you were lying in a hospital bed, your wrists heavily bandaged, Spencer sitting at the side of the bed.

He stared at you and you stared back, not knowing what to say.

“Why?” he asked you again.

“Because I didn’t want to have to cope anymore” was the only response you could give.

Spencer stood up and left the room then and you didn’t see him for the next seventy twohours. You didn’t blame him. You didn’t hate him for walking out. Faced with a similar scenario and you’d have probably done the same.

You did see Hotch though. Spencer had called him and he’d come down the hospital straight away. It was Aaron that sat with you when you told the doctors how you’d misplaced your pills, it was Aaron who held you whilst you cried as you talked about the burning desire you’d had to feel the slice of the razor blade again, just so you could see the blood and know that you were actually still alive, rather than just some empty shell which is how you’d felt. It was Aaron who convinced you to sign in to voluntary rehab, where you’d stay for three months to undergo counselling, counselling you’d always opted out of before, preferring to just pop the little white pills daily. It was also Aaron who went to Spencer’s apartment before and after every visit to you those few days before before Reid came back.

Three months and I’m still sober
Picked all my weeds but kept the flowers
But I know it’s never really over

The twelve weeks you’d spent in this place had been…. helpful. You’d rested, slept a lot; recovering from the mental exhaustion that your mind had put itself through. You’d talked to doctors and counsellors, opened up in a group, something you never saw yourself doing.

You still didn’t know what ultimately lay behind the incessant sadness you felt sometimes, but they helped you realise that sometimes there simply was no reason for it, it was just the way some people were wired. It wasn’t a bad thing, everyone was different and unique in their own minds.

What you were reminded of though was that you needed to stay on your medication and if you misplaced the pills, you needed to get a refill straight away. Your doctor had told you that although many people do eventually come off antidepressants, it’s a slow process with the dosage being reduced bit by bit. To go from taking pills daily to not taking anything had set off the chemical reaction in your brain. It was the withdrawal, the doctor had told you, that had pushed your hand to your wrist. Not you actually wanting to die.

I don’t know
I could crash and burn but maybe
At the end of this road I might catch a glimpse of me

Ultimately though, you saw this as your cry for help. A ridiculously loud cry.

Spencer had been allowed to visit you, apologising for leaving you in the hospital. You shrugged them off, you understood. He was here now, that was all that mattered.

You talked to him, told him of your long journey down the dark path of depression and self harm. And he listened, never interrupting you once. It took hours, a story told over days, sometimes you’d sit and stare at him not even finding the words to be able to describe how you’d felt. When you finished he simply took your hands into his and raised them to his lips, kissing your still bandaged wrists.

“There’s no words I can ever say to take away what you’ve been feeling, what you’ve felt. There’s no words I can say to chase away the shadows that fill your mind, to chase away whatever demons scream so loudly in your ears sometimes. Just remember though, that when you feel like you’re walking through hell, I will take your hand and I will walk through the fire with you. Talk to me. Don’t keep it locked away.”

You’d nodded and collapsed in his arms, yours tears mingling with his.

So I won’t worry about my timing I wanna get it right
No comparing
Second guessing
No, not this time

You WOULD make the effort to talk to him in the future. You didn’t want to block him out, you didn’t want to feel like you were cutting him out of a part of your life. Because this was part of you, it always would be. You’d just been scared, scared that once he knew how bad things could get that he’d run.

You should have known better really.

Three months and I’m still breathing
Been a long road since those hands I left my tears in but I know
It’s never really over, no

Today, Aaron and Spencer were coming to collect you. Today, you were going home and Spencer was coming with you. You’d originally agreed to stay for eight weeks but had extended your stay to twelve. You wanted to be absolutely certain that you were ready, that you’d re-learnt your coping techniques, that your dosage was correct.

You wanted to make sure that you could leave this place and not end up back there in two weeks time because being out in the real world and dealing with life was too much for you.

You wanted to make sure that you were ready to wake up again and live your life again. To embrace your life again.

Wake up

Three months and I’m still standing here
Three months and I’m getting better yeah
Three months and I still am

When you collected your belongings from your room, packing the bits and pieces that had been bought into you on numerous visits, you knew the time was right. You wanted the fresh air, you wanted to be able to go where you wanted, when you wanted.

When you saw both men standing in the waiting room for you, you knew that you were ready. You knew they would help you if you opened up to them. Even if all they could do was to listen and to assure you over and over again that whatever you were feeling, wasn’t right. That you weren’t worthless, that you WERE loved. That you were justified.

That you were alive.

Three months and I’m still breathing
Three months and I still remember it
Three months and I wake up

When you walked towards you boyfriend and your boss…your friend even, you didn’t look back.

Three months and I’m still sober
Picked all my weeds but kept the flowers