Without You

It Hurts

"Why?!"

Spencer sobbed in pain and sorrow as he sat with Garcia, having gone to her apartment in tears over Derek. Garcia had been hugging him for the past ten minutes, gently rubbing his back as he cried into her shoulder. Her heart broke with every sob that Spencer uttered.

Spencer continued to cry for at least another twenty minutes or so until he finally had no tears left to cry. He had changed so much in the past year, and it hurt for Garcia to have watched it happen.

Spencer had been and was still keeping his promise to Derek, but there were days when he wanted to slip back into taking Dilaudid to take the edge off the pain in his heart.

Hotch had been pretty flexible with Spencer, often offering the brunette a helping hand and a shoulder to cry on if the need ever arose.

There were times when Spencer would just pick up his bag and leave. He was a shell of who he used to be, and everyone saw it in the way he conducted and held himself... yet they could do nothing, save for hugging him and telling him that everything would be okay. It helped, but only a little. Spencer wasn't interested in the things that he used to love; puzzles no longer peaked his interest, statistics were rarely given by the genius, and he didn't dare pick up a book.

He sniffled softly and pulled away from Garcia, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. He always appreciated her for being willing and able to listen to his problems with a kind ear and an open heart, but he was finding it harder to make his way out of his shell to talk to her.

He came out of his apartment more, often able to stay out long enough for work, but wouldn't go out much with the team. He wouldn't turn down dinner with the team whenever they would do it, but he pretty much limited his time out and about to that.

"Thank you... I just... I needed someone to listen to me besides four walls and a few dusty pictures." Spencer admitted, his dull eyes boring into Garcia's as he spoke.

"I know... I just wish I could help you more. I wish there was a way to take the pain for you... But I can't." Garcia replied with a sigh.

"Trust me... You don't want this pain..." Spencer said flatly. "I don't even want it... I wouldn't even wish this on my worst enemies..."

He shook his head and stood up, running his hand through his messy hair. The brunette headed towards the door, his hands shaking as he reached for the door handle. He wanted to go home, but he also wanted to stay and curl up next to Garcia until the pain went away. She was his voice of reason as he struggled through finding himself again.

"Garcia...?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you go with me to visit him tomorrow...? It might be nice if you go talk to him, too..."

Garcia nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks as she listened to Spencer. "Yeah... I'll go with you. Just call me when you want to go, okay?"

Spencer nodded, then left, gripping the strap of his bag as he walked. He would always refuse a ride back to his apartment, not wanting anyone to have to deal with him more than they had to. Besides, he liked walking home. It let him think as he walked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer dropped his bag as he clicked the lock shut on his apartment door. He then kicked off his shoes and trudged into the kitchen, making something simple to eat. He wasn't that hungry, but his hands were shaking, a clear sign he needed to eat something.

He sat on the couch as he ate, looking around at the room. He still kept the apartment clean, but he wouldn't touch the photos of Derek. Each one had a thin layer of dust covering them, and he couldn't be bothered to deal with it.

After he was done eating, he plopped down the rest of the way, laying on the couch as he looked at the ceiling. He couldn't think... His mind was blank after having cried to Garcia.

But he was itching... itching for something he couldn't know the reason behind.

Slowly, Spencer lifted his sleeves, finding the source of the itching to be his arms. He started to scratch at the itch, slowly and lightly at first. Eventually, however, his arms were bright red, having itched them raw. He scratched at his arms once more, his attention turning to his right arm when little beads of red started to form. He watched the crimson blood come up from the wound and start to make its way down his arm. Only then did he try to stop the bleeding.

The itch was no longer there...