Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort
Spoilers/Warnings: One scene of explicit rape in the first chapter. A few possible spoilers from and up to season 5.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine and I am not looking to profit from them.
Summary: A case goes badly wrong and Morgan and Reid are trapped at the mercy of two sexual sadists, Tom and Eric Faraday. Morgan/Reid slash. Focuses on their recovery and relationship after the trauma.
Almost everyone was completely asleep by the time the plane took off for home. Even Hotch nodded off while foolishly attempting to grapple with the paperwork generated by the case, held in sitting position by a single elbow and his forehead against the window. He'd be sore as hell tomorrow, Morgan knew from experience, but it was understandable that he tried to cram as much work into work hours as he possibly could since he was the only parent Jack had now.
Morgan wasn't able to sleep, even listening to music didn't help to drown out his worrying. He got up to go to the bathroom, and on his way back he stopped to check on Reid, who was lying under a blanket on his preferred couch. Despite the dim lighting of the darkened plane Morgan could sense almost immediately that Reid was feigning sleep. Morgan crouched down in front of him and brushed a strand of light brown hair, which looked like it was tickling his nose, behind his ear. He then bent forward and whispered;
"For future reference pretty boy, you're never this still when you're asleep. You make faces and noises. And occasionally you recite Star Trek dialogue."
Reid's eyes flicked open.
"You're kidding." He said suspiciously.
"Nuh uh. It's one of your many quirks we've learnt to accommodate over the years. Why d'you think I listen to music?"
"Because you're too dumb to play chess?" Reid suggested with a grin, earning himself an indignant poke in the ribcage.
He gave a muffled squawk.
"If that left a bruise I'm telling JJ." he mock-glared, sitting up and nursing his side.
Morgan laughed. "Oh yeah? Do you really want me telling Garcia you called me dumb?"
Reid considered this. "Touché." He agreed, shifting to make room for Morgan to sit under the blanket with him.
"So." Morgan said once they were settled. "What's keeping you up?"
"Insomnia is one of the many enjoyable symptoms associated with Dilaudid withdrawal." He explained with a wry smile. "Just when I want nothing more than to be asleep."
Morgan leaned sideways and gave him a sympathetic shoulder bump.
"You don't have to stay up with me. Seriously." Reid said awkwardly. "It's my own fault for taking the doctor's stuff all at once instead of tapering off it slowly."
Morgan shook his head. "None of this is your fault kid."
Reid nodded unenthusiastically and huddled down further in his side of the blanket. He unconsciously jiggled his right leg up and down restlessly.
"I can't sleep either." Morgan said. "Wanna play cards or something?"
"Even though we both know I'll win?" Reid smirked. His left leg took up the motion and his right leg stilled.
"What can I say? I'm in a masochistic kind of mood."
Reid smiled. "It's okay. I'd rather just talk anyway."
"Okay. What about?"
"I don't know." Reid contemplated for a moment. "Why you can't sleep?" he suggested.
Morgan didn't know what to say. "Uh, just…it's been a difficult case I guess."
Reid nodded in agreement.
"I'm sorry for yelling at you before." he said guiltily.
"Don't worry about it." Morgan shook his head dismissively. "Did you mean what you said about refusing the counsellor?"
Reid shrugged. "I don't see the point. I mean I'm already more qualified than most counsellors are to do their jobs. Besides which I can barely bring myself to talk about…what happened, with you and you were there for most of it, so I fail to see how talking to a stranger would improve my wellbeing in the slightest."
"You know Hotch isn't gonna let you get out of this right?"
"I know. I guess I'll probably go to the sessions but it doesn't mean I have to talk to the guy."
"Hotch is just trying to help you."
"He could have helped me by getting us out of there an hour earlier." Reid muttered bitterly.
"You don't need me to tell you that's not fair." Morgan replied.
"No I don't." Reid agreed with a harsh laugh which sounded nothing like himself. "And you don't need me to tell you that the world isn't fair."
"That's not an excuse to act like a jerk Reid." Morgan snapped.
Reid raised his eyebrows. It was the first time Morgan had seriously berated him in a long while.
Morgan immediately apologised. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. You have every right to be angry about what happened."
"No." Reid said numbly. "You're right." He didn't elaborate any further. His legs started twitching again.
Eventually he growled in comical frustration and gripped his own knees with his hands, "Man, the Restless Leg Syndrome is a nightmare, I can't stop moving my legs! I'm so tired but if I keep them still they feel weird."
Morgan smiled wickedly and swooped forward, pulling the young man's long skinny legs across his lap. He started massaging them.
Reid laughed uncomfortably. "No it's okay you don't have to…oh. That helps." his expression changed to reluctant enjoyment.
Morgan looked smug. "Healing hands. Or so Garcia tells me."
Reid eventually relaxed, rearranged his two pillows behind his back and rested his head against the back of the couch, watching Morgan's hands sleepily.
Morgan was happy he'd finally found a way to help, though admittedly the idea of massaging the legs of the boy he was desperately trying not to fancy across his lap, possibly wasn't his finest plan. Not that it was that much of a problem, he was perfectly capable of controlling himself. It was just that it made him a little guilty how much he enjoyed doing it, considering Reid didn't know he liked him and everything. But if it helped Reid sleep he figured it was worth it.
The last thing he remembered of the flight before he fell asleep, was noticing Reid's amusing sock pairing, one of which had black and yellow stripes and one which had what looked suspiciously like a Pikachu on it.
What the hell was wrong with his libido that he found this so attractive in a grown man?
The next day Morgan got into the BAU to find a strange white male in his early thirties munching a bagel and poking through some confidential files which were on Prentiss's desk, while absentmindedly bouncing a small, clear rubber ball on the floor next to him.
"Um, sir you shouldn't be doing that." he said, confused. The man jumped back in surprise, putting his hands the air as if holding the bagel hostage under gunfire.
"I'm so sorry, is this your bagel?"
"Uh…no…I meant the classified case files you're looking through without authorisation." This just got weirder.
"Oh right…then I totally didn't steal this." The man relaxed. "Hey did this serial killer really eat seven people? That's gross."
"How did you get in here?" Morgan asked.
"Aaron asked me to drop by."
"Aaron? As in Hotchner?"
Right on cue Hotch came out of his office, clutching a stack of files and looking slightly agitated.
"Ah there you are, sorry, we've just received a bunch of new students and they all need a Psych Eval. Morgan this is the private counsellor I told you about, Dr Adam Young."
"Oh, right…I was going to call you." Morgan shook hands with him. Young had dark scruffy hair which curled around his ears. It was too short to be called long and too long to be called short. He had a bright, intelligent looking face and cheerful demeanour despite being dressed rather casually in a brown leather baseball jacket and blue jeans. He was nothing like Morgan had expected him to be. He'd expected someone Gideon or Rossi's age, not someone so…well. Young.
"I know, but I couldn't risk taking you and Reid on another case before you had your assessments, so I thought it would be better to get it out of the way now." Hotch explained.
Morgan nodded. "Where are we doing this then? The BAU?"
Just then Rossi entered the room.
"Did somebody eat my bagel?" he asked irritably.
Without so much as a twitch Young slipped his hand behind his back, casually opened Prentiss's desk drawer and slipped the remains of the stolen snack inside.
"I thought my car would be a suitable location." He smiled pleasantly and started towards the elevator. Morgan exchanged amused glances with Hotch and then followed.
"Where's your car?" Morgan asked as they left the building.
"Oh I don't have a car. We're actually going to the nearest hotdog stand I can find. That bagel really sucked." He looked put out.
"I'll tell Rossi to bring something better next time." Morgan said.
"I like tuna." Apparently he didn't register sarcasm so well.
After obtaining Young's hotdog they sat down on the back of a metal bench in a deserted kids play area. Morgan's mind raced with questions as he watched the man eat and bounce-catch his ball off a concrete wall.
"You know, some people are really put off their food when other people stare at them." Young said.
Morgan continued to stare.
"By the way, if you're wondering whether there's any Freudian significance to us being in a children's park eating hotdogs, I swear that was just a happy coincidence." Young said.
Morgan raised an eyebrow.
"Okay…psychology jokes aren't your thing then. Just trying to break the ice." Young laughed. "You're friendly aren't you?"
Morgan remembered that he had planned to cooperate and relaxed his posture slightly. He knew he looked threatening when he didn't smile because of his muscles and height and everything.
"Sorry. You're just not what I expected."
Young nodded, mouth full of hotdog. "I know. I keep thinking maybe I should grow a beard. People respect psychologists more when they have beards."
Morgan laughed this time.
"How did Hotch find your sense of humour?" he asked.
Young grimaced. "He didn't. I was surprised he asked for my help again actually. I thought he really disliked me."
One of his throws went a little off the mark and Morgan put his hand out to catch it. Young looked strangely upset at missing the ball, but then turned it into a game of back and forth between them.
"So I'm guessing Hotch told you what happened to us." Morgan said after a while.
Young stopped throwing the ball and looked at him, his playful expression suddenly serious.
"He gave me a rough description yeah. It would be helpful if you could tell me in your own words though. Thoughts, feelings, you're a profiler you know the drill."
Morgan opened his mouth to speak but then ended up shutting it again. He wasn't unhappy about the counselling like Reid was, he wanted the guy's help, but now he was actually faced with the task of talking about it, he found he just couldn't tell a guy he'd only known for half an hour about something so personal.
"I can't." he finally admitted. "I thought I could but I can't."
Young nodded. "I get that. You know it all stays between us though, if you ever do. Even though I'll be treating your friend Dr Reid as well, nothing you say gets back to him and nothing he says gets back to you."
Morgan nodded. The ball throwing game started up again.
"So tell me about Dr Reid then. How long have you worked together?"
"Nearly five years."
"You two get on well?"
"Yeah sure. He's like a kid brother to me y'know?" Morgan said, concentrating on throwing the ball as he recited the well-rehearsed understatement of his feelings for Reid.
"You got any real brothers?" Young said after catching the ball.
"Nah, two sisters."
"You get along with them?"
"I do now. Not so much when I was a kid. Having three women in the house constantly nagging me wasn't my idea of heaven when I was younger."
"What did they nag you about?"
"The usual. Fighting, cutting school, hanging with the wrong crowd."
"What about your dad?"
"He…uh…he died. When I was ten. He was a policeman, shot in the line of duty. I saw it happen."
"I'm sorry. Was that why you acted out?"
"I don't know. I missed him a lot. But I was proud of him too. It made me want to work for the FBI. I wanted to be like him I guess, cos my mom missed him so much. The trouble I got into was just teenage stupidity I think."
"Well you lost your role model. That's hard for any kid to deal with. So exactly how much trouble did you get into?"
"Quite a lot. I almost got a criminal record, but…" he realised the conversation was rapidly heading towards Buford. "…it was expunged."
Young noticed the change in his expression.
"Oh? How come?"
"A guy from the local youth centre said he'd take responsibility for me." Morgan said, throwing the ball harder than he meant to so it bounced too high off the wall and soared over their heads. He couldn't keep the loathing out of his voice.
"You didn't like him?" Young asked curiously.
"He wasn't a good guy. Everyone thought he was…but he wasn't." For the first time Morgan looked directly at him instead of the wall as he spoke.
"What did he do?"
Morgan debated with himself for a long time, but then he shook his head. "I'm sorry…I can't."
"Oh God, that bad?" Young hopped over the back of the bench to retrieve the ball.
"We went back there on a case recently. He murdered two boys. Probably more."
"But you knew before then. What he was." Young said, wiping grass off the ball with his sleeve and bouncing it one handed on the seat of the bench between his legs.
Morgan nodded and watched the ball again.
"He abused you."
"Is there a point to these questions? It was a long time ago." Morgan said sharply and looked away
"There might be a point. I don't know. From the fact that you deflected the question so expertly I think we can deduce that you haven't come to terms with it yet."
"Yeah, it messed me up! Jesus I'm a profiler, do you think I hadn't considered that? Tell me something I don't know."
"When you're concentrating on stopping yourself from saying too much your throwing speed increases by 3.5 milliseconds." Young said casually. "More or less anyway."
Morgan was stunned. "What?"
"When you want to hide what you're thinking you focus more on the ball, not on the rhythm."
"You're kidding me."
"You can't possibly know that."
"It's a simple enough calculation involving distance and the timing of a known rhythm which I set the pace for. Some people can't get the rhythm at all or they can't catch for shit so it doesn't work so well, but it seems to come naturally to you when you don't overthink it. You ever consider taking up drumming?"
Morgan stared at him in disbelief. "Something tells me you and Reid are gonna hit it off."
"Speaking of Dr Reid, it's time for his session now. Do you have any other questions or issues you'd like to discuss before we head back?"
"Uh, no I'm alright."
"Cool." Young bounced the ball hard on the ground one last time and then put it in his pocket.
"For the last time Rossi I did not steal your Goddamn bagel! I am allergic to tomatoes!" Prentiss was shouting as Young and Morgan re-entered the BAU. Hotch had retreated to his office and Reid was pretending to look for something in a filing cabinet to avoid getting dragged into the confrontation.
"Look, I'm not even mad okay? I'm just saying, there are certain boundaries you just don't cross with people you work with!" Rossi said.
"Hey Dr Reid!" Young yelled to get the young man's attention. "THINK FAST!" and he proceeded to throw the ball at the bewildered genius before Morgan could warn him that this was a bad idea.
Reid's instinctive reaction was to turn his face away and swipe blindly at the incoming missile in an attempt to divert it, which succeeded, but unfortunately diverted it straight into Prentiss's coffee cup, soaking her face and chest. She gasped speechlessly, and the thunderous look on her face sent every man in the room scurrying for cover. Rossi mysteriously lost interest in pursuing justice for his bagel and disappeared into his office.
"Oh Dude! I'm so sorry ma'am that was totally stupid of me!" Young laughed for a few seconds before realising she did not look amused.
"How about I buy you another one after you're done here?" he winked.
"No…you're alright." She said icily, and disappeared into the bathroom to change her top.
"Wow for a psychologist you really suck with women." Morgan grinned and clapped him on the back. "I've seen serial killers get a warmer reception from her."
Young looked depressed.
"Will someone please explain to me what he's doing here?" Reid asked.
"Young." Young raised his eyebrows and held out his hand.
"I'm twenty eight!" Reid snapped automatically.
"Oh. Unusual name." Young said with a grin. "But okay Twenty-eight, it's time for your session now."
Reid looked confused. "That's not..."
"Uh Reid, this is Dr Adam Young. He's the counsellor Hotch wanted us to see."
Reid looked at him, at first with surprise and then with fury.
"What the hell's he doing at work!?" he hissed at Morgan. "I thought this was meant to be private! Hotch had no right-"
"It's an unofficial interview. The others don't know why he's here."
"I'm not doing this now!" Reid said stubbornly.
"Why not? It's just a chat." Young said.
"We don't have a case Reid." Morgan pointed out.
"Yeah well since every single person in this team seems to think it's their god given right to sneak half their paperwork into my pile just because I have an eidetic memory, it takes me a whole lot longer okay?"
"Look I'll do yours if you want. This is more important. Hotch wouldn't want you to miss it." Morgan said.
Reid looked at him desperately. "I don't want this Morgan. I'm fine!"
"If you're fine then what are you so afraid of?" Young asked. "Like I said. It's just a chat."
Reid didn't reply.
"I can come back after your work hours if it's more convenient for you." Young said.
Reid picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder.
"Now is fine." He said irritably.
Young fished his ball out of Prentiss's abandoned coffee cup and they left.
Young sighed and looked at the clock of the coffee shop they were in. Forty five minutes of their time were up and Reid had still refused to give anything but the minimal possible response, to anything but a direct question.
"Hey Twenty-eight, want to hear a psychology joke?"
"How many psychoanalysts does it take to change a light bulb?"
"I don't know."
"Only one, but the light bulb has to want to change."
"Okay so it's not my best. I know a hilarious limerick about schizophrenia but I hear that's a touchy subject with you."
"Are you really trying to annoy me into talking about my issues? That's your cunning plan?"
"Don't flatter yourself, I'm just bored." Young smirked. "Sounding a little paranoid aren't we?"
Reid gave him an unimpressed look.
Young gave up and dedicated the remaining ten minutes to making an origami crane out of a napkin. He was folding down the wings when he noticed Reid was watching him.
"You like origami?" Reid asked, reminded of the story of Sadako Sasaki, the japanese girl who tried to fold 1000 cranes before she died of cancer. He would have normally brought this up, but he was determined to minimise any conversation between them so he bit his tongue.
"Yeah a little. Do you?"
"I don't know. I never tried it."
"So try it. I'm sure that fantastic memory of yours catalogued every step already." Young chucked a napkin at him.
"I don't need to see the steps. I can work it out in my head from the finished version. It's just angles." Reid said disinterestedly.
"No way. I demand proof. ORIGAMI DUEL. Close your eyes Twenty-eight."
Reid rested his chin on his hand and did as he asked. When he opened his eyes there was a lopsided origami penguin sitting self-deprecatingly in front of him.
He leaned forward in his seat to look at it from every angle. It took him less than a minute to visualise the folds, and in less than two minutes he had completely replicated it.
Young picked up the two penguins and laughed. "Cool."
"Are we done?" Reid stood up.
"We were done before we got started Twenty-eight." Young said coolly. "You made sure of that."
Reid started to leave, but suddenly felt bad about his behaviour.
"I'm sorry. It's nothing personal, I just don't think this will work." He tried to explain.
"Because you're smarter than me?"
"I didn't say that." Reid said defensively.
"No, it's a valid argument since you clearly are." Young said lightly, tearing the tops off sugar packets and pouring the sugar into his mouth. "I know I'm smart, but you just figured out intuitively something I could only learn by memorising steps and practising. Like in mathematics you get average people who just use a function on a calculator, and then you get a few people who actually understand why it works. But," he said, pointing at Reid with a coffee stirrer. "The advantage I have on you, is that the information I receive by watching you and talking to you is condensed so that I only get it in its simplest form. So I'm given a join-the-dots puzzle, while you have a pack of hyperactive Dalmatians running around and refusing to sit still."
"Maybe you're right. Maybe sorting some people's emotional problems is easier for a spectator. But my emotions aren't a puzzle, I know where they came from and why they're there. They don't need to be solved because there is no puzzle. Telling you every detail of my personal life is just going to make those emotions more vivid and make me relive it over and over."
Young lowered his voice slightly and looked Reid in the eye.
"Can I assume that by personal life you mean the fact that you were raped?"
Reid froze. "Shut…shut up! We're in a public place!" he hissed, going pale, even though there was nobody sitting within hearing range.
"Because it looks to me like you can't talk about that to anyone, not even yourself." Young continued. "Your excuse for not talking to me about it is that it only makes the memories more vivid, but you have a perfect memory. I'm sure you don't need to talk about the event to recall exactly how it felt. I think it probably haunts your every waking moment. So why do you really not want to talk about it? You want to know what I think?"
Reid glared at him.
"I think you're terrified, and ashamed. You think if anybody finds out they'll blame you, they'll say you should have been able to fight back because you're a man. And the reason you're so scared of that happening, is that it would serve to reaffirm the belief you already hold, either consciously or in your unconscious mind. Tell me if I'm getting close."
"I'm going back to work." Reid said through gritted teeth.
Young smiled sadly. "Well it was nice talking to you. You can pick the location next time if you prefer."
The sound of the coffee shop door slamming shut was his only reply.
Link to chapter 8: http://colourmebipolar.livejournal.c
Link to chapter 10: http://colourmebipolar.livejournal.c