warnings: mentions of molestation, drug and substance abuse, vomiting.
You stand across from Prentiss who is next to Mr.Jacobs. He looks...nervous, as though he has something to hide. And you know he does- you're sure of it.
"Mr. Jacobs, have a seat," Prentiss says sternly.
He takes a quick pause before taking a seat, a nerve-racking expression taking over his face as he looks towards you and Emily.
"Did," Prentiss pauses. "Uh, Jeremy and Katie spend a lot of time together?"
Mr. Jacobs turns his body to face Prentiss. "Our families spend a lot of time together. He likes his cousin."
"Does that make you jealous?"
His face stays pallid but his voice lowers, almost as though he's offended. "What? Why would it?"
You look down at him and so does Prentiss. You flick your eyes to Prentiss and she takes the gold necklace from her pocket and places it on the table in front of Mr.Jacobs.
He glances at the necklace and his adam's apple bobs in his throat. Nervousness. He tries not to look at the jewelry, but the guilt drains the color from his face.
"We found that in the trash," you say in a soft voice. You cross your arms over one another. "How is it that you know your 6-year-old niece likes to read books and play dress-up, but you don't know the first thing about your own son?"
"Typically molesters only pay attention to the children that they're grooming, ignoring even their own," she rotates around the table and places her hands on the edge.
"Katie wore that necklace" you cease. "Because you told her to, because you told her she was special. As if the sexual abuse wasn't enough."
You glare at the man in front of you, every word leaving your mouth with a hint of disgust. He's cracking after every sentence that brushes past both of your lips. The sight of him crumbling is lovely.
"Is that when it started?" She queries.
"When what started?"
"When you gave Katie the necklace, when she started wetting the bed, when her parents came to you and Susan wondering why their daughter locked herself in her room," she lists. "Was that when it started? Is that when the molestation started?" she raises her voice an octave.
Mr. Jacob stands, beginning to step back. "This is ridiculous," he exclaims.
"You couldn't help yourself, could you?"
"You're crazy!"
Prentiss follows Mr.Jacobs as he backs away. "Like so many little girls before."
"I-I wanna get out of here-"
"You started spending more time with her and telling her she was special."
He throws his hands up in exasperation. "I'm not listening to you."
"You knew it was sick," she continues. "Your brother's own daughter."
"Shut up!" he yells.
"Did she outgrow your preference?"
"SHUT UP."
"Did she get too old for you?" Prentiss yells.
"No!" he cries. Mr.Jacobs stares at Prentiss, both of them continuing the intensifying gaze at one another.
You back away slightly, letting Prentiss take charge. She seems to be leading the situation, so you let her. It isn't that you can't handle it, you just know it isn't your time to speak.
"No," he takes in short, repeated breaths. "I may have done some things that... you couldn't possibly understand, but I would never hurt Katie."
Prentiss draws her brows, her jaw locking as she scans his face for the fat lie. She breaks the stare and averts her gaze towards you, which is directed towards Mr.Jacobs. You blink hesitantly before pulling out the chair on the opposite side of the table, nodding at Mr.Jacobs as he takes a seat.
You walk over to Prentiss, who is already listing her thoughts on the broken necklace.
"Whoever ripped the necklace off of Katie did it in a rage, and he just seems," she hesitates. "Broken."
You process the information given to you, shaking your head at what just took place. You suddenly remember what Susan said when you first spoke with her. She said she was getting a lighter engraved for her husband- but he hasn't smoked once all day.
You shift your body to the side, facing Mr.Jacobs. "You know, for probably the most stressful day of your life, I haven't seen you light one cigarette."
"I quit," he spits. "Over a month ago."
You almost say something else, but keep it in. Before you step out, something else hits you.
Susan said she worked in retail for years. She knows the entire mall by heart. All of the stores, rooms, everything.
You walk out of the room in a hurry, making your way to the food court where Reid and JJ are standing.
"I don't think the Aunt is telling us everything, and this could get dicey," you whisper. You brush past them and make your way to Susan, paying no mind to them following after you.
"Susan-"
Mrs.Jacobs stands, terror tearing away at her face. "What is it?" she begs.
"I need to speak to Susan," you reply.
You try to speak to Susan but the voices of Mr and Mrs Jacobs keep interrupting you. You grab a hold of Susan's arm and begin pulling her away.
"Did you find her?" Mrs.Jacobs wails.
"No. Not yet." You keep your grip on her arm, pushing past Richard and Mrs.Jacobs. You place your free hand on Susan's back and push her along.
"I need to speak with you, follow me."
You continue your way to another empty room, JJ and Reid attempting to stop the ruckus happening behind you.
"What is this? What's this about?" Susan queries in a soft tone.
You shift your body slightly and look her straight in the eyes, the lie bleeding through them. "You used to work in retail?"
"I'm sorry. How does that-"
"You mentioned it earlier."
"So what?"
"What you didn't tell me was that you used to work in this mall, years ago," you remark. Anger washes over your face and you cannot stand looking at her. You're scared you'll do something you'll regret later.
Her eyes bounce around your face, her pupils dark, as if she were staring into your soul. "What does that have to do with anything?"
You begin raising your voice, making sure to let the worried parents behind you hear how malicious Susan really is.
"You know this building like the back of your hand. Earlier, you made sure to separate from the group," you say, clenching your jaw.
"Susan, what the hell do you know?" Mrs. Jacob yells.
Susan looks towards the group behind you and then back at you, her eyes already beginning to water. She's guilty. So fucking guilty.
You pull her arm once more. "Come on, let's go."
+++
You stand on the steps of the mall, watching as Katie is put in the back of an ambulance car. No one would have ever guessed it was Susan, but even the ones that appear the most innocent hide something.
You swallow the lump in your throat, scrunching your nose as Susan is put in the back of the police car. It brings you joy seeing her get what she deserves, but it pains you to see what she's done.
You stare at the ambulance and cop car lights, the flashing driving you away from the person appearing next to you.
"How are you?"
You blink profusely, registering the voice belonging to Reid. You purse your lips, nodding your head in attempts to keep your silence.
"You were yelling at her, it was intense," he continues. You nod your head once more, refusing to turn your head towards him.
As you spend more time staring at the bright lights and the small family together once again, your eyes begin to water. You try to blink away the tears, but it only worsens, your vision now blurred and streams of tears begin to roll down your cheeks.
You rapidly wipe away the tears. It wouldn't be awful for you to show emotion- the overwhelming amount of thoughts and feelings you've hidden away- but you don't want to add on to the list of things Reid will have to pay attention to. He already has a lot on his plate, and you've recently disturbed his moment of peace.
Reid grabs your arm and positions you in front of him. "It's okay to cry," he whispers. He slowly rubs your arm, the feeling of his hand burning through your clothes.
"I know, I know. It's just a lot," you reply.
Today has been draining and you can already feel yourself falling into the depths of sleep. All of the yelling and running around the mall really tired you out. All you need is sleep.
He digs in his pocket and takes out the keys to the suv. "Come on, let's sit in the car until they're done. I'll play classical music for you while you sleep."
You twitch a smile and follow him to the correct suv, opening the car door after it unlocks. You scoot into the backseat and wait for Reid to turn on the car as well as the music. After a few moments, he opens the back door and moves in next to you. You lay your head on his lap, his fingers quickly finding their way in your hair.
You reach your hand up to his face and bring it down to yours, planting a kiss on his lips. Your body shivers as you remove your lips from his, fire coursing through your veins. You allow yourself to give Reid one kiss a day, one harmless kiss a day. You know you can't maintain a relationship while recovering, but the kisses mean nothing- at least that's what you force yourself to believe.
"Thank you," you murmur.
"Go to sleep, angel."
You smile to yourself as your eyes flutter shut, your heart beating out of your chest as his fingers continue twisting in your hair.
+++
You open your eyes, shifting your body slightly in the empty bed. Empty bed. You bounce your eyes around the room, trying to find Reid, who isn't there.
You sit up in bed, panicking as you look at all corners of the room. He isn't here. It's his room, but he isn't here.
"Reid, Reid," you shout. "Re- Spence? Spencer."
Your lips trembles as your breathing rapidly increases. You get up and wander towards the door, tripping a couple of times before reaching the door knob.
"Reid?"
You shouldn't be crying, he's probably in the other room. He is in the next room, you just can't stand being alone, the feeling of an empty room with no sound picks your skin until there's none left.
A harsh sound of footsteps alerts you and you step back, letting the door open. Reid stumbles in and you wrap your hands around his body, burying your face into his chest as you cry.
"I'm here, i'm here," he whispers. "I'm sorry."
You try to get words out but it's near impossible, so you stick with pulling him tighter against your body.
He didn't purposefully leave you alone in his room, he most likely did so because he wasn't sure if you would have a problem with him sharing a bed with you.
After a minute spent of you sobbing in his arms, you quiet down, your heart beat steadying. You draw in a long breath and exhale, a quiet growl in your stomach reminding you that you haven't ate.
While on cases, you tend to forget about eating. You run on coffee most of the time, so it isn't much of an issue, but last night was different. You skipped breakfast and had coffee, but you didn't eat after that. You were too busy running around trying to find who abducted Katie.
"I'm hungry," you mutter.
He laughs and you pull away, eyeing him down in a grumpy manner. His adam's apple bobs in his throat as he notices your eyes turn down, plastering an uneasy smile on his face.
He pulls you to the kitchen and you sit down on one of his stools. You take a good look at him- dinosaur pants with a halloween shirt and a pair of black and navy blue socks. You gaze down at your clothing, realizing that you're still in your work clothes.
You knit your eyebrows. "You didn't take off my work clothes?" you query.
"I- You weren't awake, so I didn't want to do something you weren't aware of," he informs. You nod and avert your gaze to the countertop, tapping your fingers against the smooth wood.
"What do you want to eat?" he asks.
"Cereal," you reply.
He gives a warm smile then moves towards the refrigerator, a gust of cold air hitting you as he opens the door. He grabs the milk carton and places it on the kitchen counter. He then opens his pantry, reaching up to grab the two boxes of cereal.
"Which one?" he queries, shaking the boxes. Your eyes bounce from one box to another, contemplating between Froot Loops and Frosted Flakes. You point at the Frosted Flakes and he places it on the counter, leaving it there as he puts the other box back in it's spot.
He shuffles to a cabinet next to his stove and opens it, taking out a white glass bowl. He then takes it to the counter and opens the cereal box, pouring the contents into the bowl. You stare down at the bowl as he pours the milk, the liquid splashing against the cereal.
You're tired -you barely even remember waking up to walk out of the BAU- and even though you've slept for a total of nine hours, you're still exhausted. It's a fact that those who have experienced trauma will become far more fatigued than those who have experienced little to none. But, you can't be tired, you're an FBI agent who has serial killers and crazy people to track down. You don't need sleep, so how is this time any different?
He pushes the bowl forward and then hands you a spoon, the cold metal sending a shiver down your spine. You mumble a "thank you" and begin eating.
You keep your eyes on Reid- not purposely, but you find yourself gazing at him in every moment. At work, in crowds of people during cases, even when you're alone with him. You like being around Reid, it gives you a sense of security that you've been yearning for.
As you stare intensely at him, you begin gathering a load of questions. Although he wasn't an alcoholic, you figure that he's still able to give you some kind of help on recovery. All addictions have a rough recovery road.
"Reid," you lilt. "How was, um, how was recovery?...For you."
He takes in a deep breath and takes a seat in front of you. "Hard. It's hard. You have a high chance of relapsing due to how the substance makes you feel. When you drink or-"
"Reid, how was it for you?"
He hesitates for a moment, but proceeds. "When I was using, and even when I was recovering, I was moody all of the time. I didn't notice at first, but after some time I started realizing."
You drop your spoon in the bowl and lean forward in your chair. You wouldn't think Reid would have ever been addicted to any kind of drug or substance, at all. But like so many have said before: even the people you least expect can have monsters.
"It takes a toll on you," he says in a low voice. "You're constantly fighting the urge to use again and there's times when you might even relapse. But it's all part of the process- relapsing. It just means you have to adjust some part of your plan."
You swallow the growing lump in your throat, trying your best to ignore the pit forming in your stomach. "Did you ever relapse?" you ask.
He purses his lips. "I did. But I worked on my plan and received more support and... i'm better now."
"Will treatment prevent me from relapsing?"
"No."
You scrunch your eyebrows together, a stubborn expression taking over your face. Most addicts relapse during recovery, but you want to hear about those who've stayed clean throughout. You want your recovery to be a smooth sailing.
"Don't tell me that, I don't wanna hear that," you cry. You stand up from your chair and step closer to Reid, your jaw trembling as you let your thoughts crush you.
"Why can't you tell me anything that's going to help with these feelings and urges that are fucking killing me?" you exclaim. "You think telling me "it's going to be okay" is going to cure all of my problems?"
"I'm sorry," he replies, his voice slightly cracking. His chest heaves and his movements are slow, his hands shaking tremendously as he places them on your shoulders.
He wants to help you.
"Why can't it be easy?" you plead, urgency echoing in your voice.
"You know why," he whispers.
You shake your head. You find yourself sinking into the depths of struggle and lonesome, and as much as you yell and cry, you keep sinking. There's help, but your brain avoids the lending hand. It's as if it wants you to lose this fight.
You hit your fists against his chest and begin crying once more. You're a wreck. You need help- and loads of it. You melt into his embrace, falling onto the floor with him. "I- - I'm sorry," you stammer.
He lowers himself on the floor with you, his arms delicately wrapping around your body, rubbing your back. He guides pieces of hair out of your face and brushes his fingers against your cheeks, wiping away the tears.
"You aren't doing anything wrong, don't be sorry." He plants a kiss on your forehead and continues rubbing your back, his free hand brushing your hair.
You move your body up and lay your head in the crook of his neck, wrapping your arm around his neck. You play with his curls, twisting then around your finger.
Your crying dies down, only sniffles filling the room. You lift your hand and wipe your nose, rubbing whatever was on it on your shirt.
"You'll stay, right? Even when I hate you?"
He scoffs quietly. "Yes, I will."
___
sorry for the late and short chapter!!! i will try to finish this ff quickly:)