leftinbasketforfbi | All you know is when I'm with you I make you free

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All you know is when I'm with you I make you free

Who: Reid and Molly Hooper
Where: Molly's home in DC
Summary: They've been going out for a bit. It was only a matter of time before she found out about the Dilaudid.
Warnings: Discussion of past drug addiction

"Oh, I had an air conditioner just like this in college."

Reid examined the broken machine he had placed on Molly's floor. The thing had been broken for two days, and being a good boyfriend, he wanted to fix it as soon as he heard. "Do you have a toolbox? I'd just need a screwdriver and maybe a small pair of pliers."

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"Right, right. O-Okay. And that's a..thing I should be watching, yeah?" Molly murmured, turning her gaze towards the machine and not Reid's arms. But every once in a while her eyes would glance back as he examined the compressor, and the more she became positive that she knew exactly what the marks on his arm were from. Which, in truth, made her a little worried.

"Heeeey, how about a coffee break for my favorite repairman, hm?" She eventually interrupted, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she got to her feet. "Gotta keep your focus up! A-And I know mine's wandering..."

Reid glanced at her, his brow knitting in concern, and he picked up a rag he had set aside, wiping the grease from his hands. "Are you okay, Molly? Y-you seem preoccupied."

Molly didn't usually hesitate so much when she talked to him, and her body language had changed drastically since he had gotten there. He had no idea what had precipitated the change, and not even the kiss could distract him (although it was very close to it). He stood up, laying the rag on the machine. "If you want to take a break, sure."

Damn his profiler-y goodness! Molly had her back to him as she had turned with the intention of coffee-making. She wrinkled her nose in a grimace, mouthed a curse word to herself, then slowly regained her composure and turned around. "It's...It's not that I'm preoccupied...Well, okay, it is, but it's just that I... wanted to talk to you about something and I didn't want to get in the way of what you were doing."

Which was true. She gave him a half-smile and tilted her head a little to indicate she wanted him to come closer. "I just...I want you to know, that, um, that even though we've only been together a short while, that I care about you, a-and I'm in this for the long haul. So...remember that day at the park where we ended up talking about London and why I left, and you were so sweet and comforting? I....I just want to remind you that if you ever need me to be that shoulder for you, that...that I'm there. No matter what it's about."

Molly, you're dating a profiler. Better be prepared for zero ability to hide your feelings.

He crept closer to her, his brow knitting together more and more as she spoke. If her intention was to soothe his concerns, she was failing. Miserably. "Well... I'm in this for the long haul too."

He bit his lip. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the words--he really did--but her uncertain mannerisms were putting him on edge. Something was wrong, and he didn't know what. Was it something he said? Did? "W-what precipitated this? If... If I did something that worried you..." Although he seriously couldn't think of what. He hadn't looked suicidal while he was trying to fix the air conditioner, had he?

For a second, Molly thought maybe she was doing well. She just wanted to give him the chance to tell her about it of his own will rather than pry it out of him. But now Spencer looked nervous and Molly felt her stomach surge with uneasiness.

"What, no no no!" She shook her head and held up her hands, shaking them insistently. "Oh hell, I'm rubbish at this... I just...It's just that I noticed your arms when you were over there and I...I've seen scars before. I can...tell what some of them are from." Now it was her turn to gently bite her lip. Had she crossed a line? Was she going to have to say it explicitly?

Edited 2012-07-29 03:36 (UTC)

Well, she wouldn't have to say it explicitly. He perfectly understood.

The color drained from his face all at once. His pupils contracted to pinpoints. He immediately yanked his sleeves back down to his wrists, but the damage was done.

"I-I..." His hands shook. He felt the pinpricks under his skin, the ghosts of all those needles and the Dilaudid rushing through his veins. He struggled to rein in his anxiety, but he could barely come to grips with it. Emotion crashed down around his ears--fear, guilt, pain, and most of all, complete and utter shame.

He was absolutely certain he'd never see her again after this--no one wanted a drug addict for a boyfriend.

He struggled to moisten his mouth, but it was bone dry. He was sure all his thoughts were showing on his face, but he couldn't stop it. "...Oh."

Oh hell, this was going worse than she could have imagined; the color drained from his face and he yanked his sleeves down. Molly' stomach continued to feel like it was under siege from dread-inducing ocean waves.

"S-Spencer, Spencer, calm down, it's, it's okay..." She held her hands out, afraid he was going to run away from her. She wanted to hug him, but what if he pushed her away? She gently reached for his hand, his shaking hand, wrapping both of hers around it. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. Please don't hate me? I-I just wanted you to know you could talk to me about it....i-if you wanted to..."

He looked down at his hand in both of hers, his eyes wide. It felt wrong. All wrong. She was so good, and he... he was damaged. Damaged in a way she wasn't even close to being. It felt like she shouldn't even be touching him.

The memories of his addiction, of the utter weakness he had shown then, shook him to the core, awakening self-loathing that he hadn't dealt with for a long time.

"Hate you?" The statement surprised him. It jolted him enough to make him look at her face, but then he quickly averted his eyes again. "I could never hate you. It's just..."

He squeezed his eyes shut, then forced them open again, making himself face the situation. "I'm clean. I've been clean for years. I swear. I'm not--I'm not going to steal or lie or hurt you to feed a habit. I'm clean." More than anything, he wanted her to not look at him like his doctor did. Like the nurses did. Like all the strangers who saw the scars did. Like he was pathetic. Like he didn't care about others.

Like he was worthless.

"That's..just shh, okay?" She raised one of her hands and put a finger to his lips. Utter serious was etched on her face, and she made a point to look him in the eyes as she spoke. "Doesn't matter. Well, I mean, yes of course it matters, b-but you don't have to explain yourself to me. I believe you. I'm a doctor, remember?" She gave him a wry smile, afraid that smiling completely (if she could even manage it) would be inappropriate.

"I only saw them for a little bit but they looked old, and you seem perfectly fine, but I know that...well, sometimes old urges come back. And I just wanted you to be able to come talk to me if...if that ever happened." Her fingertips of her left hand idly brush against the end of his sleeve by his wrist. "I....don't want you to feel like you have to hide it." Her words are sorrowful at the tail end of her statement, the hand on his lips moving to cup his cheek.

She was quiet now, giving him his chance to speak. But her eyes were fixed on him; open, caring, and gentle. He was far from worthless in her eyes. But she didn't know how to make him see that.

He listened. He listened, but it was so difficult to understand. At the moment, he felt horrible about himself, like he had actively hidden a current problem from her. He knew that wasn't it and that he would have told her at some point, but...

He bit his lip, taking a deep breath. He tried to rein in his emotions a bit. She wasn't going to leave him. She wasn't giving him That Look. She was still touching him.

"I..." He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut, and this time, he allowed them to stay closed. "I... I want you to know, I didn't choose to start. It was..." his breath became shaky, but he forced himself to go on, "it was a serial killer. Tobias Hankel. He had Dissociative Identity Disorder. One third of him was looking for an excuse to kill me, one third was convinced my team and I were the heralds of Armageddon, and the original personality felt powerless to help me. The original was the one to shoot me up the first six times. He thought... it would make it easier for me."

Reid tried to work the lump out of his throat, but he couldn't. He opened his eyes, but he didn't make eye contact. Tobias Hankel was one man who would always haunt him.

"I was addicted after that."

If he'd been able to see, Reid would have noticed Molly's eyes widen as he recalled his close encounter with a serial killer. Oh god...no wonder he didn't tell me...

Her hand tensed around his when he got to the details - particularly the words 'kill' and 'six times', but she took quick breath and forced herself to listen. This had to be far harder on Spencer than it was for her.

"Now I...I get why you didn't say anything," she said softly, her hands letting go of him so she could slid in close and wrap her arms around him tightly. She didn't care if he hugged back, it just felt like it was the only thing she could do for him. Embrace him.

"That's...awful and horrible, and I'm so sorry I dredged all this up, Spencer.."

He knew that it would probably be disturbing to hear, but he couldn't help but say it. He'd never really talked to anyone about it before, and even that brief description took a lot out of him. He still had nightmares sometimes. Seven years, and he still had nightmares.

The hug surprised him, but he accepted it. After a moment, he wrapped his arms around her too, holding her. He buried his face in her shoulder, allowing himself one brief moment of vulnerability.

"It's alright. I was planning on telling you at some point anyway." He gave a tiny laugh, pulling away just enough to look her in the eye and give a small smile. "I mean, it's pretty obvious when I take off my shirt."

She took a deep inhale of his scent from his shirt, gently rubbing his back as he buried his face into her shoulder. The fear and shame she'd seen on his face moments ago was heart-wrenching, and she wanted to make sure he didn't need to make that expression again.

Molly ventured a small smile when he pulled back slightly and looked at her. "Well, I'm sort of glad this happened now, then. So at least when, um, that happens I can focus on what's important. Which is, y'know, objectifying you, clearly." That playful twinkle flashed across her eyes and she gave him a gentle squeeze.

He laughed again, this one a little more genuine, and he reached up to her face, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Yeah. Now there'll be nothing distracting you from objectifying me."

He kissed her softly and ran a hand through her hair. If he hadn't been so damn exhausted, he might have initiated something. As it was, he felt like he hadn't slept for a century.

"Thank you."

"For what?" Molly asked, genuinely unaware of just what she had done to garner thanks. "Being rubbish at subtlety?" She made a wry face, placing another kiss to his lips.

He smiled, running his thumb along her cheekbone, then brushing his fingers against her jawline. It was all perfect in his eyes.

"For giving me the benefit of the doubt." And for not giving him that horrible look so many other people had.

She smiled, leaning into his touch. She still felt like she'd come very close to messing up, but with him looking at her like that? It felt like it didn't matter.

"Anytime," she shrugged. "I-I mean, they're just scars. Sure, they tell part of a story but they're not the end-all, be-all." Her father had said something like that to her a few times, though he'd been more eloquent about it.

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All you know is when I'm with you I make you free

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