High and Drowning

Chapter 10

endure [enˈd(y)o͝or]

a verb 

remain in existence, last

_________

His roommate was getting on his nerves. This whole situation was getting on his nerves. One moment of weakness and look where you end up. 

He flopped over and frowned. It had been at least a week, from what he could tell. He'd been to therapist's meetings and had been on his antidepressant for a solid two days. 

He frowned. He still felt like the whole world was closing in on him. 

The door edged open and his nurse walked in, no doubt to administer the pills. (Celexa or citalopram hydrobromide. A well known SSRI. Serotonin is a neurotransmitter found in both the brain and the stomach, which then sends signals throughout the body.) 

Ah yes, the random bursts of information. His best coping mechanism. 

The nurse set his pills down and looked at him. He gave what must have been a terrifying smile back and reached for the pills. 

She sighed. "Dr. Reid..." She sat down next to him as he chased down his pills with some water. "How are you feeling today?" 

He looked at her, trying not to cough as one of the pills went down weird. 

She'd never know, I could lie, and she'd never know and I could finally get out of this godforsaken hospital. Somewhere in the back of his brain, he knew he would just end back up in here if he did that and he heaved a sigh. 

"I'm fine." Great response, top of the line. "When can I go home?" Stellar follow-up. 

The nurse stood up and moved to check on his roommate. Her voice was careful, and very distinct as she replied. "I don't know Dr. Reid, but we'll talk to your therapist and we'll see what we can do." 

The profiler in him picked up on so many tells, so many indications and ticks, but he decided to hope against hope that she was right and that he would be going home soon, and that it would be all right again. 

One can always hope, right? 

_________

Hotch sat in his office, going over the numerous reports that had piled up during his "sick days." He had sent in a notice to Strauss telling her that Reid was on an extended leave for an undetermined amount of time. Naturally she demanded why and when and what, and Hotch desperately just wanted to go to sleep. 

But he sighed and began his email. 

He explained that among the recent traumatic events that had unfortunately occurred, especially the traumatic events that had occurred to SSA Spencer Reid, he had advised, no, strongly encouraged that he take an extended leave to heal any psychological and physical scars.  

He concluded with the statement that he would expect him to be back in no less than two weeks and he would accept any fallouts this unfortunate but necessary situation might bring. 

He scanned the email critically. All of it was technically true. Reid was on an extended leave for an undetermined amount of time. He was there for psychological reasons, and he was willing to accept any consequences from this situation. 

Hotch sent the email, and turned back to his case files, a slight smile on his face. 

He may never admit it but, playing this game, pulling the wool over the brass' eyes was almost satisfying.

Besides they would never understand anyway. They were a family. That was something the brass simply could not comprehend. 

He'd visit Reid once he was done with these god forsaken case files. 

_________

JJ didn't know what she had expected when she first heard the words psychiatric ward but she knew it wasn't this. 

It was clean and efficient and she was pleasantly surprised to see the staff engaging with the patients. 

Maybe it was her own old-time view of psych wards, maybe it was all the horror movies she watched, but now that she actually was inside of one, actually knew someone inside of one, she could see that they wanted to help. 

She was signing in at the reception desk, on her way to visit Reid. She knew that he was dying in here. And she hoped that he would be moved to outpatient status before long. 

His door was open and she swung in. 

He was sitting on his bed, legs crossed, eyes fixed on a spot on the wall. His hands were clenched in his lap. JJ coughed to get his attention. 

He slowly turned to look at her. His eyes were dark and ringed with red. "Hey." He offered, dully. 

She was slightly alarmed but then again she could understand. He had expressed to her over and over how he desperately wanted to go home. How he felt like he was constantly under a microscope. 

"Hey." A pause. "What's going on?" 

He scoffed. "JJ, really. You tell me." 

She felt stung. She knew he still felt the guilt of his attempted suicide strongly, he'd broken down about it several times, and she knew that he was desperately wishing for things to be normal again, but he had never been so...callous with her. 

"Spence?" Soft, allowing for some of that hurt to creep into her voice. 

His stiff posture bent a little. "JJ. If I'm here any longer." He looked at her with sparkling eyes and JJ knew he was being deadly serious. "If I'm here any longer, I'll actually go insane." 

He relaxed, his hands rubbing back and forth and fidgeted slightly. "I can do this on my own. Outside of here. I'm responsible, I can go to whatever therapist they set me up with, take my medicine, do whatever they want. Just let me go home." His voice cracked. "JJ, I really just want to go home." 

JJ felt her heart shatter, and wanted more than ever to talk to whoever was in charge of Reid's mental health evaluation. She took a deep breath and tried to get him to look at her. "I know you are, and you will. You'll be home soon." But, and there's always a but. "But, we have to make sure you aren't a danger to yourself or anyone else either." 

He flung himself out on the bed, his arms over his eyes. "God, JJ, that was a mistake, a mistake. I'm not going to do it again. I would never do it again." 

She sighed and looked at him. "I know Spence." It still doesn't change the fact that you tried it and now have been diagnosed with depression. Not to mention you are a recovering drug addict. There's just a lot of variables here.  "Just focus on yourself, ok?" She patted his knee. "Ok?" 

All she got was a grunt and a jerk of his head.