Categories > TV > Criminal Minds > Saving Spencer Reid
Spencer wasn't stupid. He knew that if anyone out of the BAU or the FBI for that matter found out just how out of touch he actually was, he would be in a lot of trouble. He had known for quite some time he was in trouble and yet he had allowed himself to fall deeper and deeper into the pit of despair, depression and guilt. He knew that everyone said that Gideon's death had not been his fault…but if that had been the case then why did he feel as though it was? Deep down, where he buried his guilty feelings about his father leaving and having his mother committed, there was the death of Gideon. He couldn't help the thought that if he hadn't been so stupid as to think that he and J.J. could have taken Hankel alone then maybe Gideon would still be there.
He sat on the couch in his apartment. An Almost empty bottle of Jack Daniel's in one hand, an unopened one resting by his feet. This is what he had been doing to avoid having to dream. He would drink until he passed out, making sure that his alarm was set. To be late for work would arouse suspicion and the last thing that he needed was the entire team to once again be constantly asking him if he was all right and if there was anything that they could do. He knew that they meant well but enough was enough. So for now the best that he would be able to do would be to go to work, smile and pretend that his entire world wasn't crashing down on his head.
He drained the bottle of Jack that he had been nursing. He stared at the empty bottle like he was unsure as to how it got there. If anyone had told him even three months that he would have gone from drinking wine and Chardonnay to hard liquor he would have laughed at them. The Spencer Reid of then had not been a drinker…the Spencer Reid of now couldn't have lived without it. He shook his head; this was becoming a very sad state of affairs. If he hadn't been so drunk he would have been disgusted with himself.
He had always prided himself on how neat and clean he had kept his apartment. Everything had a place and there usually wasn't a speck of dust or a piece of garbage to be found. Now his apartment was a mess. It looked like either someone had ransacked it or he'd been robbed. There was clutter everywhere, books lay on the floor in heaps not to mention that there were empty liquor bottles everywhere. He stared at the mess and sighed. The last sober part of his brain told him that he should make some effort to clean it, but his main comment to that was "Fuck it." He wasn't expecting company and as long as people at work thought that he was sort of dealing with it; then they would leave him alone.
As he tossed the empty whisky bottle in the corner and uncapped the full one he remembered the conversation that he had been forced to have with Strauss. She had decided that he needed to see the BAU's therapist. He had known to a degree that it was mandatory for agents who had been through a traumatic event. If finding your mentor dead wasn't traumatic he wasn't sure if he knew what was. He also knew that what she hadn't been expecting was that he would play the system, tell the therapist all the right answers without allowing him to ever really get a peek at what was really going on.
He had known that by the look on her face when Dr. Gube had come out saying that Spencer's biggest problem was that he wasn't getting enough sleep. Dr. Gube had shrugged it off saying that this was a problem that most agents had and that his psyche would sort it out. If that didn't happen then there were medicinal or non-medicinal routes that they could take. All Reid had done at that point was smile at her. He had known that the two people that he had to fool he did.
Now as he looked around at his messy apartment…including his dead plant he began to think that maybe playing the system wasn't the best idea. In fact as he looked around him he realized that could have been the biggest mistake that he had made, but it was one of those mistakes that only a time machine would have been able to fix. He took a swig out of the bottle and then set it on the floor. He knew that if he didn't get some sleep soon the next day was going to be hell to deal with.
He kept the light on, and lay on his couch. Without the darkness to taunt him, making his mind conjure up all sorts of monsters that could be hiding in the corners of the room, and with enough alcohol in his system to guarantee that there would be no dreams he was safe. He set his alarm and closed his eyes, within seconds he was asleep.
He sat on the couch in his apartment. An Almost empty bottle of Jack Daniel's in one hand, an unopened one resting by his feet. This is what he had been doing to avoid having to dream. He would drink until he passed out, making sure that his alarm was set. To be late for work would arouse suspicion and the last thing that he needed was the entire team to once again be constantly asking him if he was all right and if there was anything that they could do. He knew that they meant well but enough was enough. So for now the best that he would be able to do would be to go to work, smile and pretend that his entire world wasn't crashing down on his head.
He drained the bottle of Jack that he had been nursing. He stared at the empty bottle like he was unsure as to how it got there. If anyone had told him even three months that he would have gone from drinking wine and Chardonnay to hard liquor he would have laughed at them. The Spencer Reid of then had not been a drinker…the Spencer Reid of now couldn't have lived without it. He shook his head; this was becoming a very sad state of affairs. If he hadn't been so drunk he would have been disgusted with himself.
He had always prided himself on how neat and clean he had kept his apartment. Everything had a place and there usually wasn't a speck of dust or a piece of garbage to be found. Now his apartment was a mess. It looked like either someone had ransacked it or he'd been robbed. There was clutter everywhere, books lay on the floor in heaps not to mention that there were empty liquor bottles everywhere. He stared at the mess and sighed. The last sober part of his brain told him that he should make some effort to clean it, but his main comment to that was "Fuck it." He wasn't expecting company and as long as people at work thought that he was sort of dealing with it; then they would leave him alone.
As he tossed the empty whisky bottle in the corner and uncapped the full one he remembered the conversation that he had been forced to have with Strauss. She had decided that he needed to see the BAU's therapist. He had known to a degree that it was mandatory for agents who had been through a traumatic event. If finding your mentor dead wasn't traumatic he wasn't sure if he knew what was. He also knew that what she hadn't been expecting was that he would play the system, tell the therapist all the right answers without allowing him to ever really get a peek at what was really going on.
He had known that by the look on her face when Dr. Gube had come out saying that Spencer's biggest problem was that he wasn't getting enough sleep. Dr. Gube had shrugged it off saying that this was a problem that most agents had and that his psyche would sort it out. If that didn't happen then there were medicinal or non-medicinal routes that they could take. All Reid had done at that point was smile at her. He had known that the two people that he had to fool he did.
Now as he looked around at his messy apartment…including his dead plant he began to think that maybe playing the system wasn't the best idea. In fact as he looked around him he realized that could have been the biggest mistake that he had made, but it was one of those mistakes that only a time machine would have been able to fix. He took a swig out of the bottle and then set it on the floor. He knew that if he didn't get some sleep soon the next day was going to be hell to deal with.
He kept the light on, and lay on his couch. Without the darkness to taunt him, making his mind conjure up all sorts of monsters that could be hiding in the corners of the room, and with enough alcohol in his system to guarantee that there would be no dreams he was safe. He set his alarm and closed his eyes, within seconds he was asleep.
Sign up to rate and review this story