nemesism // spencer reid angst

dear

Spencer was holding his breath when Hotch re-entered the bedroom. He was scared; Hotch could be awfully hard to communicate with. He kept his arms hidden underneath the sheets. Spencer knew that his boss had already seen the scars earlier, but he didn't necessarily want them on full display.

"Reid, you can breathe," Hotch spoke, a slight smile quivering on his lips. "I'm not that scary, am I?" Spencer just shrugged at the question. He knew he was capable of verbal discussion, but he didn't feel like engaging in it.

"Do you want to sleep? You seem tired." Hotch proposed. Spencer hadn't realized how tired he was until now. He nodded heavily and allowed himself to lean backward and sink into his pillows. "I'm going to sit on the floor over here and catch up on some paperwork if that's okay with you." The man motioned to the foot of the bed.

"You can- you can use the desk," Spencer muttered hoarsely. Truthfully, the idea of someone using anything of his gave him anxiety, but he already felt horrible about the position he was putting them both in. The least he could do was accommodate them.

"Alright, sounds good. Let me know if you need anything." Spencer watched Hotch through hooded eyes as he pulled a stack of papers from his bag and plopped them on the desk across the room. Before Hotch could turn around and see him observing the man, Spencer shut his eyes. He was grateful for the offer of sleep as it meant he wouldn't have to discuss anything that happened in the past twenty-four hours.

~~~~

The next thing Spencer knew, he was awoken by rough hands grasping his own and a loud voice booming in his ears. He was covered in a sheen of sweat and squinting his eyes. He pulled his hands back and slapped them over his ears in an attempt to block out the head-splitting scream he was hearing. It took Spencer a minute to realize that the scream was his own. After realizing that, he started to come to.

"Hotch?" Spencer sniffled, eyes still squeezed shut and hands shakily relocating from ears to face, wiping tears from his cheeks.

"I'm right here, Spencer," Hotch responded. The man was kneeling beside the bed in front of him. Spencer stilled, surprised by the use of his first name. "Can I touch you?"

"Okay." Spencer accepted without contemplating the possible consequences. When Hotch reached out and wrapped a hand around his shoulder, he lost touch with reality.

~~~~

"No, please, I don't want it. Please!" Spencer begs, sobbing as Tobias Hankel raises a needle to his arm.

"It'll help, I promise." The man tries to reassure him, but Spencer refuses to stop pleading against it.

"No, no, no. Please." Spencer winces at the sting from the injection before his body goes slack. The drug takes effect almost immediately, sending him into a state of nothingness.

He jerks awake hours later and the man before him has changed. He's angry, ruthless, and Spencer feels fear like never before. Maybe being high isn't so bad, he thinks.

"Choose who dies." It takes Spencer a moment to process what this means as he follows Hankel's pointer finger aimed at several screens in the barn with them.

"No, I won't choose. Please don't make me choose." Spencer feels bile rising in the back of his throat as he thinks about what he is being told to do.

"You pick one, or I kill them all. Hurry up." The ropes tying him seemed to get tighter as Spencer's heart rate increases. How is he supposed to choose someone to die?