Echos of a Genius | Spencer Reid

Blindness

Stephie

Profilers. We're trained to see through the smallest details, to read people down to the color of their socks. So how is it that I'm the only one who's noticed that Reid isn't just struggling mentally, but physically too? I think he's using drugs. No, I know he is. He's addicted to Dilaudid, and I'm certain that's what he took from Tobias Hankel's pocket. He's been acting werid, I know he's been through a lot but he's not right. There's something wrong, he doesn't even answer my texts or calls. Hell, not even my emails.

My pulse quickened as I stood outside Hotch's office, trying to steady my thoughts. This wasn't just another concern—it was Spencer. I needed him to understand.I knocked on the door, my hand trembling slightly. Hotch's deep voice called out, "Come in," and I pushed the door open, my heart pounding in my throat.

He was behind his desk, buried in paperwork as usual. For a moment, I nearly lost my nerve, but I forced myself to step inside and close the door behind me. "Hotch, do you have a minute?"

He glanced up, his face calm and controlled. "Of course, Foster. What's on your mind?"

I took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. "It's about Reid. I'm really worried about him."

Hotch's eyes finally left the file he was reading and locked onto mine. "Go on."

I steadied my voice as best I could. "I don't think it's just the trauma from the Hankle case. He's not okay. I think he might be using drugs—Dilaudid. I've seen the signs: withdrawal, mood swings... He's not himself."

Hotch leaned back in his chair, his face impassive. "Stephie, we're all concerned about Spencer. He's been through a lot, but he's strong. He'll get through this."

Frustration bubbled up inside me. "No, Hotch, this isn't just about stress. He needs help. We can't just wait for him to hit bottom. He might not get there."

Hotch's expression hardened just a bit, though his tone remained steady. "Stephie, Reid is an adult. He needs to deal with his issues on his own. We can't intervene every time someone on the team struggles."

My disbelief grew. "But what if he can't handle it? What if he's in too deep, and by the time he realizes he needs help, it's too late?"

Hotch's gaze softened slightly, but his voice was still firm. "Sometimes people need to hit rock bottom before they're ready to seek help. We can't force him to accept it if he's not ready."

I felt my heart sink. This wasn't just about hitting rock bottom—this was Spencer's life. "But, Hotch, I—"

He raised a hand, cutting me off gently but firmly. "Stephie, I understand you're worried, but we need to trust that Spencer will come to us when he's ready. He has to figure this out for himself."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stood there, stunned, searching for any glimmer of understanding in his eyes. But his expression was resolute.

I nodded, more out of resignation than agreement, and turned to leave. As I reached for the door handle, I glanced back, my voice barely a whisper. "I just hope he survives long enough to realize he needs help."

Without waiting for a response, I walked out of Hotch's office, feeling more helpless than ever. Spencer was slipping away, and I didn't know how to save him—not when the one person who could help refused to see the danger.

I see Spencer lurking around the office, from his desk to the coffee station back to his desk, to the bathroom to the coffee station to his desk again, back-and-forth and back-and-forth. It's driving me insane, and the fact that nobody else thinks something is wrong is driving me even more insane.