Paranoia - s.reid

Hard Pill to Swallow

TW: This entire chapter is about PTSD, anxiety and/or suicidal thoughts. And I mean, pretty much the whole thing. This is also really short, I'm sorry.

It started a week after Peter Lewis.

The nightmares were normal, they were expected. It was the physicality that caused issues.

The constant tapping of a pen, frantic eyes and lips so chapped they bled.

She first noticed it when her phone rang, leaving her frozen and terrified in her office. The next time was when she was having drinks with Elizabeth McCord.

The secretary of state laughed at Liz's joke, shaking her head. "I'm telling you, that prime minister really got into my head."

"Oh, that was good. That was so impressive. The way you got into my head. It makes me want to know how I get into yours."

The words playing in her head captured her. "Lizzy?"

She jumped, breaking into a smile as quick as possible. "Sorry. Zoned out."

After many instances, one had completely sent her over the edge.

Morgan entered her office using his ID, a grin on his face as he almost began gloating about something he bought Savannah. But all she could see was the bloody wound on his neck, the crimson liquid trickling down and dropping onto her carpet.

"Oh, my god. Morgan! We need a medic!" She panicked, not taking into account the look of pure horror and confusion on the man's face.

She screamed, instantly silencing when his blood splatter littered her clothing as he gasped for air, clutching the gunshot on his neck.

He gripped her upper arms, stopping her from calling out again. "Hey, hey! Beth! What's going on?"

It was as if a switch had flipped, for the blood was no more and the injury had disappeared. She took a deep breath in, running a hand through her hair in disbelief. "I'm so sorry." 

When Diana had claimed Peter Parker was her favorite superhero, she froze once again, dropping the book she had maintained a harsh grip on. "Peter Parker, huh?"

"Peter."

"I didn't say you could talk."

Spencer saw the pain she was in. The flinching every time her phone rang, the dullness of her eyes providing a looking glass to the horrors of her trauma. She avoided going to their study at all costs, along with abandoning any kind of intention she had to talk about the evil experience.

She'd been lying awake all night, strictly remaining on the edge of her side, back to him. Not once did her eyes shut for more than a blink, tears pooling at the thought of reliving the events in her dreams. It was a Sunday, a day she normally dedicated to her children and husband to spend as a normal family, but the past few Sundays have been different.

He watched her small form curl up in bed that morning, heart bursting with sadness as he felt the numbness she was feeling.

He attempted conversation anyways. "Lyle wants to watch a horror movie today if you want to join us. I know dolls scare you, so we won't watch anything with them in it." He sighed. "I just want to know how you're feeling."

"I want to know what you're feeling."

"Now I know what scares you."

That's all it took for the salty tears to finally soak into the pillow case, leaving Spencer to vacate the room, feeling almost as hopeless as his wife. Key word: Almost.

It had been a little over a month of hypervigilance and outbursts along with the torment of nightmares and flashbacks when the incident occurred. 

Spencer had found her in the bathroom, wailing as she begged for Vicodin or any kind of medicine she could get. She begged him to put her out of her misery. 

"Go ahead, kill me with my own fucking gun."

When he calmed her down, she gave all 3 of her guns to him, forcing him to hide them away where she'd never find them.

It was then when Spencer had finally taken her to get help.

The diagnosis echoed as if they were speaking into her brain through a megaphone. Her breath hitched as he rubbed reassuring circles onto the back of her hand. 

Two words. "PTSD. Medication."

Some part of her knew what she was suffering from, no matter how many stupid alternatives she'd come up with such as some intense post-partum depression that arrived 20 months after giving birth.

The pills kept her up at night and made her sick in the morning. She felt weak.

"My gun." She pleaded. "I need my gun."

She felt even weaker when Spencer kept track of them, counting how many were in the bottle before going to bed and after waking up. It wasn't because he didn't trust her, she didn't trust herself.

The violence, constantly circling her brain.

It was their first case after the Lewis incident. The women all greeted Liz with warm hugs and welcomes, none of them knowing of her true state. Kate updated her on the baby, gratefully accepting any tips the mother of four had to offer, which were a lot. Morgan concern never diminished after her outburst with him, but he did calm down when Spencer mentioned you were having a bad day.

Rossi knew something was off. She was his daughter after all, biological or not. He sensed it. He instantly had an idea when she didn't cheer about the serving of pasta he presented her with one night, instead watching her mutter a quiet 'thank you' and pop a few pills during her meal, washing them down with wine.

"Look, here I come. Kill me."

Aaron dealt with his situation by not dealing with it, choosing to ask her if she was okay and constantly offering time off to which she'd get annoyed, claiming she was fine and wanted to focus on the case.

Penelope was trying her best. Offering the brunette all kinds of sweets and desserts, always having to nod, dejected and retreat back to her batcave. 

JJ's suspicion peaked when one of the suspects had flirted with Spencer, which resulted in irritated gestures and harsh sighs when near him rather than the regular eyebrow raise and relentless teasing.

The issue was, some part of them all knew their friend wasn't okay. They just didn't know how to accept it- or how to help her. That's all they wanted, to help her, but they couldn't.  The FBI's most elite unit had felt like they'd failed one of their own, and that was a harder pill to swallow than any of their cases.

A month passed, things got slightly better.

Liz was able to get out of bed without the thought of death.

JJ announced she was pregnant again, and she felt herself smiling as she hugged her friend, congratulating her. She also felt tears slip down her cheeks when she had to hug Kate goodbye, wishing her well.

After a long time of feeling no hope, Elizabeth Reid saw a little spark in the future.