Redemption (boyxboy) (18+)

Chapter Thirty-three

Nathaniel was required to take a psychology class his freshman year of college, and a section of the curriculum focused on the five stages of grief. But he chose to forget all of it as soon as the final was over - human interaction was complex enough for him without having to consider underlying motivations and subtleties.

Reid has heard of the stages, too; he immediately wrote them off as touchy-feely bullshit for people too weak to handle their crap.

But in the weeks after they lose one another, Reid and Nate cycle through all five of them anyway.

Stage One: Denial

Nate makes it as far as Indianapolis before the numbness of shock wears off, before the faces around him stop being featureless blobs and turn menacing, scrutinizing. Before the seat beside him feels physically empty, a black hole sucking in every memory of Reid until all Nate can feel is his absence, the cold at his side, the loneliness weighing on his shoulders.

It's unbearably heavy; all he wants is for it to go away for a while.

So he finds the nearest liquor store and buys the cheapest whiskey there - he was never much of a whiskey drinker before, but the smell reminds him of Reid, allows Nate to pretend that he's still there beside him - and drinks the whole goddamned bottle.

It's pure bliss for a few hours - no more visions of blood or waves of nauseating loss, no turning to say something to Reid only to find that he's not there - it's just a beautiful blank fuzz like Nate no longer really exists. In the whiskey haze, he can believe that he's just a bubble floating on the surface of the earth, and if he really wanted to he could just pop and disappear into the ether.

It's less thrilling the next morning when he wakes up wedged between a dumpster and the back wall of the liquor store, dried vomit crusted on his chin and a headache so intense that it feels like his brain has swollen to twice its normal size.

It's a miracle he didn't freeze to death, but it doesn't feel like one. Because the first thought that comes rushing back in is of Reid.

*******

Reid hurts.

Everywhere, really, but especially in his side. He's sure that there's someone shooting flaming arrows into his ribs, puncturing every inch of flesh all the way down to his hip. And he doesn't want to wake up, to face the pain, but it doesn't give him a choice. It screams, it burns, it demands his attention.

So he blinks his eyes open, his gaze wandering over the split-pea color of the hospital walls until it finally finds something familiar.

Ben. Half-asleep in front of some stupid basketball game, his elbow propped on the edge of Reid's mattress. But he snaps to attention when Reid's hand fumbles at his, reaching over to press the nurse call button on the inside of the hospital bed.

"Hey, man. Welcome back."

Reid tries to swallow but it feels like he ate the entire Mojave Desert while he was out. He half-chokes and gestures at his throat; Ben understands and lifts a cup of mostly melted ice water to his lips.

Reid closes his eyes and drinks, forces himself to focus beyond the immediate physical needs, because something is very, very wrong.

Ben is there. Ben should be back in Kansas.

Nate should be there instead.

And he isn't.

Reid tries to sit up; fights with the tubes and wires trying to tie him back to the bed. He finally manages to choke out, "Nathaniel?"

Ben understands, drops his chin.

"He ran. The paramedics said he rode in with them, but no one remembers seeing him around after you came out of surgery which was-" Ben flicks his eyes up to the wall clock "-nearly 24 hours ago now. We've got guys out looking for him, but I didn't want to tell them more than the basics in case one of them- well, in case our team isn't completely on our side." Ben takes the water away from Reid, rubs his hand reassuringly over his forearm. "He's on his own now."

Reid drops his head back onto the too-firm hospital pillow, blinks the tears away.

It was for nothing. It was all for nothing.

He presses the button on his IV to request more painkillers, drifts off into the blissful black oblivion.

*******

When he comes to again, Andy's shown up. It's the middle of the night and both Ben and Andy are snoring in their chairs on either side of the bed, so Reid doesn't wake them at first. He just watches these overly-large men who have contorted into uncomfortable hospital chairs - Ben's drooling a bit - and lets himself smile at their absurdity.

Reid can feel something else tickling at the back of his mind, something he needs to remember. He doesn't let it come forward, focuses on the itching pain in his side.

And then he has to clear his throat and they know he's awake; four eyes hard and intensely focused on his own.

"Hey, man, how you feeling?"

"Don't make me worry about you like that again, boy."

Reid licks at the corner of his dry lips. The bed feels too big, the room too cold. Something's missing.

And suddenly Reid remembers, because there's no one holding his hand. There's no messy black hair and bright blue eyes, no hands forming comforting words in the air. And there should be.

Nate is gone.

He doesn't want to ask; he wants to pretend nothing has changed.

His mouth has other ideas. "Any word?"

Ben and Andy glance at each other; shake their heads. Reid's glad - silence means there's a chance Nate is still alive. Reid leans up on his elbows, grimaces when he can feel something foreign pulling at his side. "I should get up and find him, I'm the only one who can..."

Ben pushes him, gently, back into the bed while Andy pushes the call to summon the nurse with more narcotics.

"The only thing you've got to do right now is get better. The Angelevs are beyond us; it's over."

It's over.

Reid hears the words but they fall right through his mind as if it were a sieve, leaving no impression. And there was something he was going to say, some quip or protest or something, but a nurse comes in and screws a syringe into his IV; a heaviness creeps into his tongue before he can speak.