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this-is-all-unreal · 1 year

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My Dear Friend

Part 5

Part 4

Part 3

Part 2

Part 1

Warning: mention of death, and injury.

—Bruce, Tim and Dick had split up in the night. Bruce decided to see what he could find out about Margaret's first adopted family. He changed out of his batsuit and changed into his business suit. He walked up to the house of Loyd and Kelly Jefferson. It was the perfect example of the middle class dream. Nice white picket fence and all. It was one house of many similar looking ones in a suburb a few miles outside of Gotham city limits. Bruce walked up and knocked. A woman in her 50s answered. She was the picture perfect house maker, white apron and all.

"Hello ma'am I'm sorry to disturb you so late but I was looking into adopting a girl named Margaret Arthur and I found your name on an old adoption form. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?" As soon as the woman heard Margaret's name her eyes hardened. She told him she didn't care who he was; she didn't want to hear anything he had to say about her and slammed the door. Bruce was walking off the steps when a man opened the door. He was bald and looked like any man you'd see working a 9 to 5 in an office building. He asked if he heard him right. If he was asking about little Margie. The man let Bruce in and told him how happy he was to hear someone was wanting to take Margaret in, especially by the Wayne family. The name had meaning even outside Gotham.

The two men laugh and enjoy a talk about their children. Mrs. Jefferson returned with drinks and listened to the two chat. It was killing Bruce. He finally asked why they gave her up after 10 years. They both stiffened when they were forced to remember.

"If you are really interested in adopting her don't let us ruin that." Mrs. Jefferson said wanting to wash her hands of it all.

"Kelly honey" Mr. Jefferson said in a sigh. Bruce pressed the matter and it was Mrs. Jefferson who broke first.

"Do you like the Omen Mr. Wayne? Because that's what she is." She snapped. A small argument broke out between the married couple. they bickered about how serious some event Bruce wasn't aware of was.

"Please tell me all you can." Bruce asked, sounding almost desperate.

"Well you know about the poor thing's mother. She was a few screws short of a set God rest her soul. I'll never understand how she was legally able to keep a child. Or how she got to husband but according to the case worker she was in and out of state run facilities her whole life. Schizophrenia maybe?" The man asked, looking at his wife who shrugged her shoulders.

"I think she set the fire that burned the house down but no one really knows what started it." She interjected. Bruce nodded

"I understand what got her to you two but what made you give her up?" The couple looked at each other. Then the wife spoke.

The neighbor next door had some kind of accident and Margaret found him right after it happened. The cops think he was cleaning his gun when it misfired. Margaret was home alone. She heard the shot and went over there to check on him. She saw him lifeless in his chair." she stopped speaking as she looked up at him. Her expression was unreadable, maybe it was pity or possibly guilt.

"After that she didn't act like our little girl. She lashed out. We had a little dachshund at the time and Margaret tried, well she tried-" the man was interrupted by his wife.

"The little bitch put him in the oven! We are lucky I work from home. I got him out before it got too hot. She kept screaming that her stupid imaginary friend who did it. That he wanted to make a hot dog. Seeing that body messed her up. She just wasn't right. She never slept. Her grades were plummeting and forget about her helping around the house. I didn't feel safe! She would stare at me with this blank look."

�� "Excuse me, I need to get a stiffer drink." Mr. Jefferson said as he got up and walked to the kitchen. It was obvious he was crying. Mrs Jefferson looked at Bruce and leaned forward. She asked if she could tell him something that sounded crazy. And she asked that he not judge her. Bruce agreed and she continued

"After we gave Margaret back I gave birth to a healthy baby boy. I didn't know I was even pregnant till Margaret told me. She also knew the baby wasn't my husband's. I don't know how she knew." She paused to study his face. Bruce encouraged her to keep going. "The man I had an affair with was the neighbor. My husband had no idea. Margaret had no way of knowing we were very careful but somehow she knew. I asked her how and she lied like she always did and said Felix told her. She threatened to tell Loyd about the affair if I didn't tell him. I lost my temper and hit her. That's when her voice changed. I don't know what it was but it wasn't Margaret. I woke up in a hospital bed Mr. Wayne. She's a danger. I know I wasn't in the right but did I deserve this?" She took off her glasses and pulled out a glass eye. "She bashed my head in. I don't remember her doing it but It had to be her. It took 7 surgeries to save my other eye and put my skull back together. I have more metal in me than some cars nowadays." She quickly popped her eye back in as her husband returned. Bruce thanked them for their time and returned to his patrol. Telling no one about what he learned. He knew that would be a conversation for him and Margaret.

When Bruce met back up with Dick and Tim he learned there was a riot at Arkham earlier in the night and that some of the patients broke into the director's office and he didn't survive the encounter. The patients don't remember what happened or what they did to the director. Bruce was allowed to look at the CCTV. All the patients were calm, some were even under sedation until 9pm when they all left their rooms. At the same time the fire alarm was set off opening up all the rooms. No fire was ever found. In the confusion the patients slipped into the offices. It was an odd situation to say the least. Bruce decided to call it a night.—

I felt arms under me. Carrying me somewhere I was scared to open my eyes. What if it was that hag from the TV again. I smelt the familiar smell of Bruce's cologne and I opened my eyes to see the underside of his chin. I relaxed a little and moved, letting him know I was awake.

"Sorry I didn't mean to wake you up. I was trying to move you back to your room." He said as he looked down at me. I realized we were almost to the room I had the nightmare (or whatever that was) in. I tried to sit up in his arms and he adjusted his arms to make it harder.

"No, I don't want to go back there. There was something under the bed."

"I know Jason already told me about the nightmare. It's alright they happen to all of us."

"No you don't understand Bruce it was real. She was in the TV. She had this horrible smile!" I say wiggling more as I try to get loose from his hold.

"Margaret just calm down you don't have to if you're that scared." He said effortlessly keeping his grip no matter how much I tried to get free. I stop moving as he stops in the hall.

"What if I sit in there?" He says looking down at me. I think for a second. If anyone would be able to stop that thing it would be Batman I guess and if I am dreaming then he will be able to see there is nothing and tell me definitively. I nod to him.

"I guess that's okay. Didn't bring a Batarang, did you?"

"No but I think I'll be able to manage." He says with a chuckle. He walks into my room and sets me down on the bed. I crawl to the center of the bed.

"Can you look under there?" I ask as I pull the blanket over me. He smiles and crouches down. He looks for a second then stands up and flips on the bathroom light and looks inside there. He turns back to me and shakes his head.

"Not a thing." He says as he sits down in the big plush chair next to the TV. I nod and get settled in. He pulled out his phone and looked down at it and scrolled slowly as he read something. It took a while but soon I fell asleep.

"Why is he here?" I almost leaped from the bed when I heard him. I had never been so excited to hear his voice. It was light out now and Bruce was fast asleep in the chair. "No I'm serious, why is he sleeping in a chair?" He asked again

"I'm so happy to hear you, Felix. I was so scared." I whisper as I hear him laugh.

"Yeah well I was a little busy."

"Doing what?"

"Don't worry about it but you're welcome." I wasn't sure what he meant but I wasn't going to question him right now. "So you really missed me so much?"

"Of course I did. There was this lady on the TV. She was taunting me and then she attacked me. Well I think she did."

"Who are you talking to?" A very sleepy sounding Bruce asked. As he sat up in the chair.

"Felix he's back!" I say with a smile.

"Oh good." He says as he stands up and stretches. "I'm going to go shower. I'll see you at breakfast. Are you okay to be alone?" He asked as he stopped at the foot of the bed.

"I am now that Felix is back."

"Well good welcome back Felix." He says as he scratches his side and yarns. He walks out with a wave. I jump out of bed to show Felix the room.

"Look, we have our own bathroom and TV. I'm only a little scared of it." I say with a laugh.

"I thought we weren't staying?" He asked. I settled down and nodded.

"You're right. Let's have breakfast and say goodbye then we can go."

"No trust me Margaret we should go now. He talked to the Jeffersons. He's going to have questions."

"But all that was you!" I shout back at him. I was so upset to have all this brought up again. I shook my head trying to get the image of the body out of my head. And Mrs. Jefferson. Whatever she had to say wasn't going to be nice.

"They will think it was you just like the Jeffersons did. They raised you for 10 years and didn't believe you. You have a snowball's chance in hell of this family believing you. We got to go." I hated it but he was right. I started my way downstairs. It was much easier with Felix directing me. I got to the front door and pulled on the handle. It didn't open and the keypad beeped at me.

"Felix help. What's the code?" I ask as I pull hard on the door. I see the numbers lighting up like he was pressing them.

"Hold on I'm trying." He said. He had tried to guess. Soon it makes an angry beeping sound and a lid closes over the keypad and a little circle opened up. I think it was a retina scanner like from a spy movie. I heard heavier footsteps coming from down the stairs. I turn around and see Jason walking over. My mind raced with excuses but also questions. I was terrified of what he could possibly want.

"Do you really want to go outside? No shoes or coat?" He asked. He wasn't smiling or even looking at me like I was crazy, he was just staring. I look down at my bare feet then back to him before nodding yes. He leaned forward and scanned his eye. The keypad opened back up and he typed in the code. The door unlatched and I opened it. I started to step outside. The sidewalk had been shoveled and the driveway was plowed. The bitter cold snapped at my skin as I started to run across the driveway. I came to a large hill covered in fluffy white snow. I got down on my butt and slid down. I had never been so cold in my life. I gained speed as I slid. I hit a bump and fell on my side making me start to roll down the hill on my side. I thought I was going to be sick. Eventually it stopped but I was covered in a thick coat of snow. I could feel Felix brushing it off me as I got up.

"Maybe we should go back. Your skin is getting really red." My jaw was chattering too much for me to answer but I wasn't going to stop. I felt like this was my only chance. I wasn't sure how far I ran but I started to see big buildings. I couldn't feel my feet or face. The fleece pajamas didn't keep me very warm once they were wet from snow. I found my way into the city. I got strange looks from everyone I passed. I felt someone tug on my arm. It was a lady not much younger than Bruce.

"Oh sweetheart you shouldn't be out in the cold like this." She said as she gently pulled me inside a coffee shop with her. I was shaking and shivering. "Gino get me a tarp or something from the back to warm her up?" She said looking at the old man behind the counter. He quickly went to the back and came back with some kind of packing blanket. They wrapped it around me.

"I'll make her some hot coco or something." Gino said as he started heating up some milk.

"Can you talk? What happened to you?" The lady asked as she tried to dry me off. I warmed up pretty quickly and nod. "Where are your parents? Can I call someone?"

"Tell her you're from Metropolis. Ask her for bus money."

"I got lost. I need to get back to Metropolis. My mom's gonna be worried." I say through shivers.

"Let me call the cops they can-"

"No please! No cops, my dad's in trouble with the law and if they drop me off at home they might try and take him away again." I say pulling it out of thin air.

"Nice touch."

"Okay okay ummm" She looked around for a second trying to figure out what to do.

"Deb, get her on a bus." Gino said as he pointed to the bus stop outside the shop. She looked down at me unsure then nodded.

"You know your address?" She asked. I nodded quickly. I couldn't believe this was working. Gino hurries and hands her some money from the tip jar than the hot coco. I felt bad but I had to get out of Gotham at any cost. The bus was pulling up so she quickly helped me up and we walked out to the bus. She asked if Metropolis was one of the stops and to her surprise the bus driver said it was so she handed the bus driver the money and helped me on the bus and made sure the packing blanket was around me. She let me take a few sips of the coco before she had to take it. The bus had a strict no drinks rule. She got off the bus and stood at the curb. I sat next to a window and waved at the woman and man as we pulled away. I relaxed into the seat. I wasn't sure how long the ride would be but the bus was heated and I had a horrible thick blanket now.

"Good job. So from Metropolis will go to Central City or even Star city maybe."

"Then what?" I ask, looking at my own reflection in the window.

"Then we lay low, make some money somehow and from there we can do whatever we want No case workers, no shity foster homes, no Arkham, no Wayne family. We will be free." He says as I feel the seat press down next to me. Then I feel his head lay on my shoulder. I almost felt bad. Bruce seemed so nice but if Jason said was true it wasn't going to end well for me. He wasn't going to let me leave and that scared me most of all.

People came and went, the bus made alot of stops but no one said anything or seemed to notice me. Eventually it was the last stop and we were at Metropolis. I got up and hugged the packing blanket around me tighter as I left the bus and felt the cold air again. I coughed and hid my face in the blanket. I walked for a little bit. It was much more windy here but at least the snow wasn't so high. I cut through an alley to get out of the wind. My cough was getting worse.

"Don't tell me you are getting sick."

"Shut up, it's just the air drying my throat." There were two men at the end of the alley. I didn't pay them no mind. I just wanted to find a clean place to sit. Felix moved some cans to the side and pulled over a milk crate for me to sit on. I plopped down and leaned against the wall, closing my eyes for a second. I hear feet approaching so I open them and see the men much closer now.

"What's a kid in such nice PJ's doing out here?" One man asked. I didn't answer.

"Hey, my friend asked you a question." The other said.

"I guess you don't need this then." One said as he pulled at the blanket. I just let it go but Felix didn't. Unfortunately for the man Felix pulled so hard back the man fell forward and almost hit his face against the wall. I wasn't sure if they were on something or just missed the fact it wasn't me who pulled the blanket. The other started to laugh at his friend. I stood up and pulled the blanket with me so Felix wouldn't get aggressive and try to pull the blanket from them again.

"No one would miss them"

"No" I say flatly.

"No, what?" One of them asked. I backed away as one took a few steps closer.

"I think my buddy deserves that after what you did." The guy was completely fine. He just stumbled. I looked up at him hoping Felix wouldn't have to do something. My back hit something hard. I figured it was the wall so I stopped moving. The men looked above me. They looked horrified. I thought it was Felix so I didn't say anything.

"Is there a problem here?" A deep voice asked from above me. I turned around and almost screamed in surprise. It was Superman himself.

#batman #dc comics #fanfic #oc stuff #platonic batman #slight yandere #bruce wayne #jason todd #metropolis #gotham #superman #clark kent

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kissorkill15 · 7 months

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Schizophrenia: A Lorax Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: The Lorax finds out something interesting about The Onceler.

It was a beautiful day in Truffula Valley, and the Onceler was just getting his wagon ready. Why? Because he was going grocery shopping. He had his list, and off he was.

"Nice day, isn't it?"

The Onceler jumped when he heard that voice, he didn't know that this furry meatloaf was in his wagon. If he did, he would've thrown him out.

"What're you doing here?"

"I just noticed you were going into that human town again and I decided to go with you this time."

The Onceler felt his stomach drop. There's no way he was going to be seen in public with this little nuisance!

"You can't come with me!"

"Why not?"

"Because you just can't!"

"What? Afraid I'll embarrass you?"

"Yes!"

The Lorax just rolled his eyes and hopped to the front seat, not at all phased by the Onceler's outburst. "I promise I'll behave, beanpole.", he said. The Onceler rolled his eyes, not at all believing anything he said, but he reluctantly gave in.

"Fine, you can come. Just don't let anyone else see you."

The Lorax looked to the ground, "Oh that won't be a problem."

When the two got to the grocery store, the Onceler went straight to the dairy section and started looking for milk. Then he went to the meat section for turkey, bacon, steak, and chicken. Then he went to find eggs, strawberries, oranges, bananas, grapes, wine, juice, and of course, his personal favorite, marshmallows. When he was finished, he paid for his groceries, and took them back to his wagon. But when he went back, he noticed that the Lorax was missing.

"Melvin, where'd he go?"

The mule pointed his head to the store.

"You have got to be kidding me, I SPECIFICALLY SAID DON'T LET PEOPLE SEE YOU!"

The Onceler ran back into the store, and bumped into someone along the way.

"Excuse me, sir, but have you seen a small furry orange thing anywhere around here?"

The man just looked at him blankly, "No.", then he just left.

The Onceler ran all around the store, trying to find that annoying furry meatloaf, and asking so many people if they've seen him. Unfortunately, everyone he asked didn't know what he was talking about, and just looked at him like he was crazy.

"Excuse me, mister."

The Onceler turned around to see a little girl, not just any little girl, the same girl who broke his guitar once.

"What do you want?"

"Are you looking for something orange and furry?"

The Onceler's eyes lit up, "YES! YES I AM, WHERE IS HE?"

"He's by the book section."

The Onceler charged towards the book section, and finally found the Lorax, scrolling through children's books.

"Enjoying yourself, Moustache?"

"Very much."

"Well, I want to go home, and I don't want to have to explain to the animals why you're not there. So come on."

The Onceler picked the Lorax up by his waist, about to walk out of the store when someone caught up with him and put a hand on his waist.

"Are you alright, sir?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because you're clutching your chest."

The Onceler was confused. "I'm not clutching my chest, I'm carrying something."

"No you're not, I don't see anything there."

The Onceler's face turned pale. Oh no, not again. Please not again, he thought. "So you don't see anything in my hand?"

"No, sir."

The Onceler put down the Lorax and told the person that he was just feeling a little under the weather.

After that, the Lorax felt a little worried for the tall fella. Maybe it was his fault the whole incident happened, he decided to confront him about it. He ran up to his house and climbed up the window, and he saw the Onceler was filling a glass of water and took out a small white can.

"Beanpole-"

The Onceler held up a finger, shushing the Lorax mid sentence. What the Lorax didn't expect next was for him to take a fork, and stab his own hand with it, unleashing a blood curling scream.

"Jeez, what'd you do that to yourself for?"

"Just making sure you're there."

The Lorax just looked at him, puzzled. "Kid, what're you talking about, of course I'm here. You can see me, can't you?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? Kid, I'm right here, and what's with the white can?"

"They're called pills. It's a type of medicine, humans use it to keep themselves in shape."

The Lorax still didn't get it. "Why would you need something like that? You're already in shape."

The Onceler sighed, but he began explaining. "I have a condition called schizophrenia, it's something where you can see things that no one else can. I was diagnosed with it when I was 11. I was just giving Melvin a bath, and I thought I heard him talking, I heard him say how he likes it when I give him a bath, and I was speechless, and over the moon. I ran to my brothers and told them what happened, but when they went to see Melvin, they didn't know what I was talking about. They told my mom what happened, and we went to the doctor. The doctor diagnosed me with schizophrenia, and said that I needed to take pills to keep it under control. I've been taking these pills ever since."

The Lorax looked like he'd seen a ghost. He never knew that this kid had to go through stuff like this, people thinking he's gone mad when he can see things no one else can. It made him sad.

"I don't think your schizophrenia is the problem."

The Onceler stayed silent as he waited for the Lorax to explain.

"Long ago, I was an almighty among humans, back then when people could see me. They graced me with offerings, wrote me songs, and prayed to me as if I were a god. But back then, I didn't trust humans, I saw them all as selfish, entitled, lazy, worthless slugs. I made that very clear one day, and they stopped giving me offerings, and they stopped believing in me altogether, then they lost their ability to see me. Since then, it has been declared that only the ones who have a deep connection with nature shall be able to see the almighty Lorax.

The Lorax looked up to see the Onceler, his eyes welling up with tears, and it looked like he'd already swallowed his pill. Without warning, he pulled the little guy into a big hug.

"That must've been hard for you."

"Yes, it was. But I've gotten over it, so no need to worry."

The Lorax realized something.

He realized that even though the Onceler was irrationally optimistic, a little self-centered, cocky, and not so smart, he was still into nature. After all, he did grow up on a farm, and he was best friends with a mule, and had all of the animals in Truffula Valley wrapped around his finger, so it made some sense that he was able to see him.

#the lorax #the onceler #tw schizophrenia #lorax fanfic #my fics

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glorygalory · 9 months

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i do not consent to PTSD, ADHD, anxiety, or SOCIAL ANXIETY

I do not consent to having kids

i do not consent to having sex, bc of my PTSD.

i do not consent to having breast or any other kind of cancer in the future.

i do not consent

i do not consent to copyright infringement

i do not consent to plagiarism

i do not consent to not having credit for LITERALLY MAKING IPHONES!!

HELP ME! MAKE SURE I DONT DEVELOP BREAST CANCER!! I ACTUALLY THINK I HAVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

there’s nothing anyone but me can do if i (?) develop it.

i was called a “freak” in grade 6, approx. one year after i transfer from my local (?) neighborhoods 5?) (?) school into “Holy Family Catholic School”. i only stay there for 2 years (i think (?)) then i go in grace- sorry- grace ***7*** to “Barret Traditional Middle School”.

after that i finish until grade 8 and i AcTuaLlY PaSS My ClAsSeS VeRy WeLl!!!!

then i go into high school at a regular public school. it’s Atherton High School. please keep in mind that these are all louisville’s local schools.

now there is This Other God that tells me my whole life, since i drowned @ age 5, “you need forgiveness”. he does this without saying anything, i think he might be the god of the first world** meaning the world i drowned in a pool on/ (died on).

he has threatened my ability to talk, walk, he has stolen my FRIENDS, he has taken my writing career, and not only made it about him in a horrible** HORRIBLE** way… he will not let me write anymore on my iPhone unless i like, beg him to. he has also threatened my ability to walk****. in a serious way becuase my feet are injured right now and it hurts to walk on them.

HIS excuse. FOR WHAT HE* DOES TO ME*. is. “YOU NEED FORGIVENEESS•”. he hides it from all people

how he abuses me is no joke because i still get- as he would say - “abused” to this day. just the other night i had to literally- and i mean literally with my schizophrenia”(he gave that to me) think that i had kids and i had to run to the hospital like a “crazy person”, and i’m not talking like it’s funny or cute a crazy person either. one second.

i also have PTSD, ADHD, social ANXIETY and ANXIETY and that IS how HE abuses ME (& sometimes threatens ME) ***(sometimes)** IS with these iPHONES!!! which i also “CrEaTeD” while at Holy Family Catholic School.

HELP ME PLEASE!!!

i desperately want to write too. god damn. me. god damn me.

HE HAS THREATENS MY ANILITY TO WALK AND TO BE HEALTHY I NEED HIM G O N E !!! please help out i don’t need donations yet. i just need to not have breast cancer. i didn’t make it into heaven so

but i do know he lied about how i died. he said i killed myself. by eating too much salt. i think that’s his excuse for not letting me into “Heaven”. but i also

DID NOT KILL MYSELF!!! I DROWNED IN MY MOTHER ABD FATHERS POOL WHEN I WAS 5 YEARS OLD!

HE has excuses!!!! PLEASE DONT LET HIM GIVE ME BREAST CANCER!!!

i. need to know if i have breast cancer. i know. that you all can’ t tell me that. but i also need that* THAT* EMPHASIS ON THAT* because i created a source of GOD to get me past “being dead”. but i still do go to a “#1” church.

so. god damn. i need the-

#1. the “1st”.God. gone from me.

i think he is a disease becuase i have gotten some from Him.

okay? peace. out. please. be safe. 😁🫣

🫣

🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣

🤥🤥🤥

🥱

🤗🤗🤗

💕💕

💕

💞💞

🫠

🫔🫔🫔 <imaginary friends burrito

ADHD*!

PTSD*!

social Anxiety*!

and ANXIETY*!

🫥

🫥🫥🫥🫥🫥🫥🫥🫥🫥🤗🫥🫥🫥

please help me. i don’t want to get breast cancer. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😢😢😢😢😰

God #1: - 😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰🥶🥶🥶😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🤭

🫣

😥

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erotomanicpixiedreamgirl · 1 year

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can I ask you about high functioning schizophrenia? How does it affect your cognition and stuff, can you give an example? I had a lot of experiences as a kid/teen that I would call delusions now, I never told anyone about them and “resolved” them by myself after intense research and escaping my home situation. But I’m still very disconnected from everyone else, my mind doesn’t work the same way, I come off as eccentric/creative/reserved at best and creepy/laughable at worst. When I’m more isolated than usual, the warped sense of reality kind of tiptoes back into my mind. But it’s so stigmatized and treated like a “special” thing that I can’t take it seriously, I don’t feel like I have the right to identify as “high functioning” nor “schizophrenic.” And it would feel like a betrayal to take medication/work on suppressing the “more creative” side of my mind… It resonated really strongly when you said it’s like being a double agent. Thank you for talking about it! (I don’t mean to make you diagnose me, really just venting, it’s ok to just answer my question and leave it at that haha)

cognitively it can affect memory, attention, and your overall comprehension of new concepts and ideas. a lot of the times though the severity of this differs from day to day as does the negative symptoms (anhedonia, alogia….). i feel like depending on the day i can appear and feel slow on the uptake and give that impression. my dyscalculia (which btw schizophrenia is said to be comorbid with learning difficulties) gets worse. on another day give the opposite impression. and i can’t give an excuse like “oh it’s just my ADHD xD” i just have to take whatever is thrown at me. i can barely hold down doing school full time nor can i hold down a full time job. i’m scared to drive most of the time. a lot of people take this as me being lazy. sometimes i believe them.

i’m glad you can empathize with the “double agent” thing. but. i really am not sure how relatable my response will be to to you—bc this is what i actually meant. schizophrenia never gave me sparks of creativity or passion—that came way before it. it just gave me paranoia and fear. it completely changed my personality. i complain about seroquel a lot but i thank God for medication because i am much happier now and feel like my brain is actually healing from the years of untreated psychosis that did irreparable damage.

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briamichellewrites · 26 days

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When Brad got to the hospital, Jon was there to meet him. How was she doing? They didn’t know because they had yet to talk to the doctor. She was in the emergency room connected to machines. Brad had no idea what happened. She was in a good mood when she left his place. It likely wasn’t his fault. She probably had some type of medical issue. The doctors knew more than they did. He nodded nervously before taking a deep breath to calm his anxiety.

Have you met her friends yet? He might have met one or two of them, but he couldn’t remember. Jon would introduce him, then. When they got over to the group, they looked up at them. One by one, he was introduced to Brad, Mike, Chester, Joe, Rob, and Phoenix. It was nice meeting them. He apologized for the circumstances. Phoenix got up and pulled a chair over. Thanks.

They then sat down. Mike updated him with what they knew so far. How did he find her? He received a strange phone call from Anya. Her cat? Yes, the only thing he could hear was her meowing. It was like a sad meow. He hung up and went over to her house. The door was unlocked, so he let himself in. Buddy and Missy were at the door whining. He asked them where Bria was. They had him follow them upstairs to her bathroom.

That’s where he found her next to the toilet. One of the dogs swiped at her with their paw.

“It’s amazing what animals can do to get help”, Bradford said.

“Cats can sense things that humans can’t. Same thing with dogs. They can run and get help from their owners. I’ve heard of a cat saving their owner from a house fire by waking them up. Did you find her other cat”, Jon asked.

“Yes, he came in after. I think he got scared of the ambulance and hid. I changed their water and gave them new food.”

Phoenix would call his wife about going over and taking the dogs out for exercise. Thank you. He got up to do that.

Bria was in a medically induced coma. The emergency room physician explained what that meant and why it was necessary. The coma shut off her brain to give it time to recover. Did they find out why she fainted? Yes, they determined the cause was low blood pressure. It was likely she didn’t know anything was wrong until she passed out. What was she like before she fainted?

Brad was the last person to see her. He reported that she was in a good mood. They had breakfast together before she left. Could he ask what they had? Just in case it was something they found useful. Yeah, he had to remember. They had scrambled eggs and toast with jam and orange juice. Did she have any previous medical problems? She was born with crack cocaine in her system and she recently had a double mastectomy with implants.

She found out she was at risk for breast cancer. What about mental health wise? She had ADHD, Borderline Personality Disorder, depression, anxiety and PTSD. Was she taking medication for those? Yes, she saw a therapist once a week. She also had generational trauma from her birth parents. Her mother had Borderline Personality Disorder, schizophrenia, and a drug addiction.

Was she using drugs or alcohol? She was drinking but socially. They were keeping an eye on her drinking because she was at risk of alcoholism. But for now, they didn’t see it as a problem. Low blood pressure. They were all thankful she became unconscious at home and wasn’t behind the wheel. She could have hurt someone else. It wouldn’t have been her fault but she would have felt horrible when she found out. They hoped she would be able to wake up.

Mike got up and excused himself to call Renè. He left a voicemail earlier asking about the situation since he and Céline heard on the news she was in the hospital. At the time, he didn’t have any information to give him. Now he did. Chester also got up, which everyone noticed.

“Chester, where are you going”, Bradford asked him.

“Coffee.”

“That means Mike is putting me in charge of you. Don’t put too much caffeine in it.”

“I got him”, Rob said.

He got up and walked over to him. As much as he loved Bria, he hated hospitals. Something was unsettling about it and he felt anxious. He needed to walk away, even for a brief moment. Going to get coffee was a great idea. Jon asked if they should be worried. Bradford hoped not. They didn’t want him bouncing around the ER. It wouldn’t be appropriate. He had a lot of natural energy, like Bria. It increased when he had caffeine.

What was he in charge of? He was in charge of making sure he didn’t overdo it with caffeine. Mike was usually the one who kept an eye on him. Since he was stressed out and worried about Bria, the job fell to him. He didn’t mind doing it because it was one less thing for him to worry about. Jon and Brad saw how well the band worked together.

They were brothers with six different personalities and backgrounds who looked out for each other. They could teach Bon Jovi some things about getting along. Even though they had been together for twenty-something years, it didn’t always mean they liked each other. They butted heads. He and Richie fought on and off. Mike seemed to be the one who kept everyone together. They all agreed that was true. He could look at problems from all angles.

He considered all solutions before making decisions. His mind was always working and it took him a while to get frustrated. Could they teach Bon Jovi about getting along? They would try. They laughed. What about Bria? She kept them accountable. Their favorite thing was to say something to see what her reaction would be. She was also the girl who cheered them on and encouraged them.

They loved her as part of their family. How did they meet her? It was 1998. She was introduced to them by the A&R guy, Jeff Blue as a new artist on their record label. They went through a lot with him. What happened? He wanted to control everything about the music they made. Instead of getting constructive feedback from him, he just said he didn’t like what they were doing. It was incredibly frustrating. He wanted her to become a pop star. She didn’t want to be a pop star.

He and Mike formed their label, Machine Shop Records so they could have more control over their music without having him micro-manage everything they did. Jon remembered going in and talking to him. Yeah, they were so grateful for that. What kind of music did they play? It was considered nu-metal. It was a mix of hard rock and rap. Chester was the rock star and Mike was the rapper.

When Mike got back, he asked where Chester and Rob went. Coffee. He sighed before putting Bradford in charge of him. Yep, he got it. He sat down again. Did he talk to Renè? No, he talked to Céline because he was busy doing something else. It wasn’t his business. He gave her all of the information they had. Renè was going to write up a statement and release it to the media. He would ask for privacy, along with prayers for Bria. Okay.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

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Series Summary: After being arrested, Spencer Reid desperately tries to get back home to his daughter, Camellia, who was placed into foster care in your home.

Pairing: Single!Dad!Spencer x Foster!Mom!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Content/Warnings: mentions of Diana’s Alzheimer’s and Schizophrenia, prison, separation of father and daughter, swearing

A/N: i hope you guys enjoy my new fic! this may be about 8 chapters or so! i’m not sure yet, going to see how interested people are in the plot :) (also quick disclaimer: i have never been in the foster care system so please excuse any inaccuracies)

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Spencer never wanted his daughter to see him like this, being brought into the BAU bullpen in handcuffs. He was supposed to be the good guy.

Right now, he couldn’t tell if he still was. He had good intentions going down to Mexico to get non-FDA approved medicine for his mom but he may have killed someone in the process. If only he could just remember.

Camellia ran into his arms to hug him, a hug he so desperately wanted to return if it wasn’t for these stupid cuffs around his wrists.

“They can’t just take you away, Dad,” she cried.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m going to get back to you as soon as possible,” he promised, kissing the top of her head.

Spencer felt absolutely crushed as the guards had to drag his crying 11-year-old off of him so he could be taken to his holding cell.

You had just gotten off of work when your phone rang. Eileen, the head foster care coordinator, was calling.

“Hello,” you answered.

“Hey Y/N,” she greeted you, “I know you haven’t had a foster kid in a few months but I kind of have an urgent case. 11-year-old sixth grade girl. Mom has been out of the picture for a while, Dad recently imprisoned and on trial for murder. There are a bunch of family friends willing to take her but no direct family,” she explained.

“I can take her for as long as she needs,” you told Eileen.

“Great! I’ll text you the address, it’s the FBI headquarters.”

When you walked into the BAU, still in your dino scrubs and white lab coat, Eileen was surrounded by a frantic group of people.

“As I said before, I don’t doubt any of your credentials but this is the law. We can only give away a child to direct family at this point in time. If you are not direct family, you will need a lawyer to fight for custody as well as permission from her father but that process could take months,” Eileen stated.

“Spencer hasn’t spoken to his father in years and his mother is in a facility for her schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s,” a dark-haired woman spoke.

“Exactly so she must be turned over to the foster care system. I apologize to you all but this is how it works. We can’t bend the rules,” Eileen said.

“I don’t want Callie fending for herself in a house with 20 other kids,” a blonde-haired woman argued, “I’m her godmother. She stays with me all the time. She was staying with me while Spencer was in Mexico.”

“Sorry, my answer is still no. But, hopefully this will squash your concerns, Y/N!” she called you over, “This is Y/N. Jo will be placed with her. She is a pediatric doctor and currently has no other foster kids at the moment but all of her past kids have absolutely adored her. She always passes her surprise safety and wellness checks with flying colors.

“Hi,” you waved, intimidated by this huge group of frustrated people with guns on their hips.

“A doctor? So she isn’t even going to be home most of the time,” a curly-haired man scoffed.

“Actually, I own my own practice. I don’t work at a hospital so I usually have a regular 8-4 shift unless one of my patients needs urgent attention,” you clarified.

“JJ, don’t make me go,” a girl, who you could only assume was Callie, sobbed.

They were all staring at you like you were the worst person on Earth. You wanted to shrivel up and die. When you went through the process of becoming a foster parent, you thought this was a very admirable thing to do. You just wanted to provide a good home to kids in need.

“Do any of you have a key to Dr. Reid’s residence so Camellia can pack a bag?” you asked politely.

The woman closest to Callie that must be JJ pulled a key off of her chain and handed it to you.

“I’ll-um-leave my phone number and address here so you guys can contact me at any time or stop by. I understand your concerns but please know I try my absolute hardest to make sure all kids feel welcome and safe in my house,” you scribbled your information down on a scrap piece of paper.

“Are you ready to go, Camellia?” you asked softly.

She went around hugging everyone in the circle before solemnly nodding to you.

God, you felt like such an asshole.

After Callie finished packing her things from her bedroom in relative silence, you returned to the car.

“I don’t know what you like to eat but we can stop at the grocery store so we can get stuff you like and any other things you need,” you said.

You were met with silence from the backseat. You offered for her to sit in the passenger seat but she declined.

“Listen, I’m really not trying to be the bad guy here. Please don’t make me out to be one. I know you are having a tough time with your Dad’s situation right now but shutting everyone else out won’t help,” you spoke softly, “Trust me, I know.”

You sighed when the silence continued. You pulled out of the Reid’s driveway and headed to the grocery store.

You let Callie lead when you entered the grocery store, opting to follow behind her with the cart. She went immediately to the frozen meal section and started throwing them in.

“Camellia, that’s fine if those are what you want but just so you know, I love to cook so I can make you anything you want,” you offered.

“This is what I’m used to,” she spoke sharply, “My dad is not a bad dad, he just usually doesn’t have much time.”

“I never claimed he was,” you defended yourself.

After that, you kept your mouth shut. Clearly, she was a very independent girl and she had her own routine she liked to stick to.

You hauled all the grocery bags inside the house and unloaded them as Callie brought in her suitcases.

“So Camellia, I put all the food you picked out in these two cabinets. I mean obviously, you are welcome to anything in the kitchen but I just wanted you to know where the things you picked out were. I always have a grocery list on the fridge that you can add to,” you began to give her a tour of the house, “Bathroom is in there. There’s another upstairs. Here’s the living room with a TV,” you headed up the stairs, “Here’s my room.”

On your bed was an adorable toyger kitten cuddled up on your pillow.

“Oh! This is Winnie like Winnie the Pooh. I just got her a few weeks ago from a shelter. She is super friendly and loves snuggles so she will probably try to sneak into your bed unless you keep your door closed.”

“I don’t mind,” Callie spoke softly as she petted Winnie.

You smiled softly. These were the first words you got out of her that weren’t a rejection.

You continued the tour, “There’s a bathroom between our rooms but I tend to use the downstairs one so feel free to make it your own. And here’s your room,” you opened the door to a white room with a queen bed in the center, a small bookshelf, a few plants, and paintings.

“I hope this is good enough for now. We can go out this weekend to a home goods store if you want to redecorate. I’d even be open to repainting it if you want,” you offered.

Callie just set her bags down and nodded.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be. I’ll probably be downstairs for a while watching TV if you want to join. Let me know if you want me to make you anything,” you began to shut the door but Winnie slipped in first.

“Good night, you guys,” you smiled softly.

“Do you want me to wait out here or come in with you?” you asked softly.

Spencer had been denied bail, meaning he was transferred to a federal prison and Callie was going to be staying with you for a while. She had taken the news rather hard as expected when the team came over to your house to tell her. You still weren’t really accepted by the group so you mostly stood in the corner of the kitchen while they were all in your living room.

You had spoken to Eileen several times about Callie’s current situation. She gave you permission to do whatever you saw fit. This means you could opt her out of school one or two days a week if she wasn’t feeling up to it as long as she emailed her teachers and got her missed work in on time. You were researching different therapists for her to talk to because she didn’t seem to want to open up to you. You were also given a schedule of visiting times for her to visit her dad in prison.

“I’ll just go in alone,” she walked in the door to the visiting room, leaving you in the waiting room.

“Dad,” Callie tried to hug Spencer but the guard pointed to the ‘No Touching’ sign posted on the wall.

They both sat down defeatedly at opposite ends of the table.

“How are you?” Callie inquired, wiping her tears away from seeing her father locked up.

“I don’t want to talk about me, sweetheart. How are you? Emily and my lawyer visited yesterday and told me you had to be placed into foster care,” Spencer asked, concerned.

“It’s okay. Not the best,” she sighed.

“What’s happening? Are they hurting you? Are they not giving you enough to eat? Callie, I’ll have my lawyer on the phone and you out of there so quick,” Spencer frantically stated.

“No, Dad. Y/N is fine…nice, even. But she’s not you,” Callie cried.

Spencer’s face softened, “I’m so sorry, Callie. You don’t deserve to be dealing with any of this.”

“Just please come home,” she sniffled.

“I’m trying, sweetheart, I’m really trying,” he replied earnestly with tears in his eyes.

A/N: i will also be starting a series taglist if you don’t want to be added to my main taglist so just clarify which one you want to join! also i recommend listening to the song Home by Phillip Phillips because it is kind of like the theme song for this story

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego

series taglist: @ilovespencerreidmarryme

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #cm fanfic #spencer x reader #reid x reader #criminal minds

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abitscrewyvinn · 2 years

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Welcome to Screwy Talks About DID For The Thousandth Time! Today’s episode is: How We Started.

The first Weirdness I noticed was ‘voices’.For a long time I thought I had schizophrenia because that was one of the Two Mental Illnesses I Knew Existed (Thanks, media) and it was always portrayed as scary. I was terrified that that would make me Bad. I tried to ignore it and just say it was Haha Funny Quirky Writer Shit. The voices were never quite clear audio hallucinations, but I knew they weren’t me.

I went on for a while like that just pretending it wasn’t a thing. Pretty sure that if it was a writing thing, they’d stop if I stopped writing. (Spoiler alert, they didn’t stop and still have trouble shutting the hell up actually)

My ex started my journey and I appreciate the eye-opening, but my dude’s amount of research was pretty much Nothing and he ended up just stressing us out further etc etc ended up with a lot of new splits to try and cope (several of which I’m pretty sure appeared to try and get me out of the relationship but only JD succeeded with the help of our now-wife) So my research started a little late. I knew I had DID (we called it multiplicity at the time, because he didn’t know there was a psychiatric term for it and I relied on him for most information whoops) but I didn’t know shit about it. I went with what he told me. So, back then, I felt very fake for some reason.

Then JD popped up and he and our wife were like Actually This Is Shit. After that it was free game as far as research goes. I went everywhere online, so many articles and scientific texts (I woke up at 7 am today please excuse my shitty wording. There’s a word I’m looking for and I can’t brain). I read anything I could find.

Fun fact actually. Fenris originally went dormant because he was one of the ones who knew from the start that our ex was Not Good. He tried to tell us not to pursue him, and we ignored him, so he went Fuck It I’m Out. He came back around 2020 and went “I fucking told you so- wait wHY IS THERE A PLAGUE—” and he’s been more active.

I’d had therapists before, and tried to explain it once. But at first, all the info I had was from my ex. I got another therapist in early 2020 when that shit was free bc Covid, and talked to her about it. The cool thing was I got SUPER LUCKY because her mentor has DID. So she knew everything to ask, gave me a test sheet thingy, and I went through it. I tried EMDR and that Didn’t Go Well I just ended up kind of dissociating harder ^^” It’s not for everyone.

So, there are still times when I feel like it’s all fake despite being later diagnosed by a psychiatrist and being validated by a therapist who was mentored by a system. I think we may also be on the autism spectrum but uh that’s a harder one to diagnose for fem-assigned folks and I have really bad insurance at the moment sooo rip me for now.

It’s taken me A While, basically. It’s very tiring, and it’s not fun, but there are ways to cope. I also think it’s important to note that it can be hilarious, and there are some interesting things a system can do. On occasion me and a couple of my partners will take party games like Truth or Dare or Would you Rather, gather a couple alters to play, and alternate between alters (hah wording). So while mental illness isn’t fun and quirky, it’s still possible to HAVE fun.

To quote a comedian I like: Disability can be hilarious. You just have to be on the right side of the laughter.

As another side note: If you’re not a doctor specifically treating someone, don’t fucking accuse people of faking. You don’t know them. You’re not entitled to their trauma. Even if they don’t have DID, they’re probably still working something out, which just makes you a dick and causes problems for them and their view on reality/themselves.

Anyway I’m going to go either fall asleep or play The Witcher.

#Rambles #DID

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babycharmander · 3 years

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15, 18, 24?

15) why did you start writing?

Well... I mean, I've been telling stories for as long as I could talk? But I remember like... I first went online when I was 7, because my bro-in-law found a Yoshi fansite and showed it to me. I remember at some point running across the first fanfic I ever read, which was... a short fic about Yoshi eating pastries. Like, that was the entire fic, but it amazed me that people could just... write stories about my favorite character, so... why shouldn't I?

I remember verbally telling what was essentially fanfics for a while, but it wasn't until 3rd grade when I had a teacher who gave a weekly assignment for us to write a story, and on Friday we would stand before the class and read it. Eventually I started using that as an excuse to write Super Mario RPG fanfiction (specifically about Yoshi and Boshi and various others), and my teacher allowed it. (I tried writing Pokémon fanfiction for class too when that was new, but the teacher banned it because she couldn't comprehend it, haha. But she let us play Pokémon during recess even when the principal banned it so she was still cool in my book.)

Meanwhile, online, with my mom's help I submitted one of my Yoshi fanfics to a Mario fansite I enjoyed at the time. The webmaster actually published it, but made fun of the fanfic in his own description of it. (He later removed the mocking description, but the fic is still there.) A year-ish later I joined my first forum (with the username you see now!) and started RPing there, and went on to continue RPing and writing fanfic. I wrote my first iteration of A Light in the Darkness around this time--then a fanfic--and posted it on some forums that sadly no longer exist. Another version got posted to FFN when I was 13, and it... may have been my first fanfic posted to that site, I'm not sure. (It's not there anymore, though, so don't go looking for it.)

Uhhh... that's probably a longer answer than was needed, but yeah seriously I've been writing for the vast majority of my life. I can't not write. I think I would explode.

18) were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?

Answered in a previous ask!

24) have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

Become an expert? No, definitely not. I HAVE done absurd amounts of research for fics (sometimes for stuff that doesn't even wind up staying in the fic anyway!), but I can't think of anything I've become an "expert" in as a result. Like, even just taking it to mean an exaggerated version of "learning a ridiculous amount of some random subject" I'm still not sure.

Like, I have done research on PTSD for various fics, and also researched schizophrenia when writing The Rodent and the Robot. Uhhh... OH, I did watch tutorials on soldering when writing A Few Repairs. XDXD;; I'm still not sure I got it totally accurate but, hey, I did research it! (... also that fic's prequel, A Little Test, had a weird instance of me making up crap and then finding out later I was right--specifically, having Wheatley see flashing colors when in pain--turns out that, uh, happens with machines when you mess with them when they're in operation, I found out later?? Wild.) I also did at least some research on broken bones for Neither Can You IIRC.

...OH GOSH I just remembered I also did research on lobotomies for a couple fanfics. Learned a lot of very upsetting stuff that way. x__o;

And uhhh... yeah, I think that covers that one? Gosh I know I've done research on more things than that but I'm seriously blanking on anything else...

#writing #bc answers nonsense

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sierraraeck · 4 years

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Why Dads Suck

Spencer x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

(This is my gif so please give credit if used)

Summary: Partially inspired by 4x7 Memoriam. When Aundreya goes with Spencer to talk to his father, she snaps. Story six.

Category: Some angst, some fluff.

Warnings: Cussing. Talk of past abuse.

Word Count: 6.2k

“Listen to me, you worthless piece of shit.”

That was a sentence that I weighted very seriously. I cussed casually in conversation and way too much in my internal dialogue, sometimes I said it just to get people’s attention or stress the situation, but I rarely said it in a meaningful, hurtful, way. But in that situation, I was aiming to be way more than just hurtful.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Over the past 14 months, I allowed myself to care. I don’t know what got into me, but it happened. I actually started to care for the people that I worked with. I always faked that to their faces because I wasn’t a complete cold-hearted bitch, and I’m not saying that I never cared about them, I’m just saying that now I care-cared about them. Like, it was no longer ‘hey I’m glad you’re not dead’, but instead was like ‘hey I’m genuinely concerned for your mental and emotional well-being’.

And it terrified me.

When I first hit the streets, I was determined to keep a hold on my humanity. Soon that proved too difficult and my new mission was to look at everyone like a chess piece; some more useful than others but all disposable in the end if they could benefit the long-term survival of the king. That mission continued in prison and became my new everyday mindset, one that followed me into the FBI. So when I realized that that mindset, the entire foundation of my existence and survival for the past 11 years, was dissolving, and there was nothing I could do about it (I’d tried but it was a futile effort and I knew it), I was terrified. And I felt like I was falling apart.

In BAU profiler terms, that would be considered my stressor. What followed would be considered my trigger.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Spencer was going to visit his dad.

He and I had grown very close over the course of those 14 months, and I would’ve considered him the closest person to me (with the exception of my mom and sister) ever. He even overpowered Deen and Sydney in my mind. But I guess those two were more of a ‘loyalty-to-the-end-as-a-means-of-survival’ type thing, instead of just simply ‘friends’.

I told him the most out of anyone on the team, and overall just felt like he wouldn’t judge me, which was a complete 180 considering how we started. I just felt like he understood me in a way that I hadn’t experienced, like he understood the roots of who I was, not just who I was in relation to what I’d done.

We even had a couple agreements.

The first was that I was going to make him more ‘culturally-adequate’ while he was going to make me more ‘educationally-adequate’. That took form in a book swap. I would provide him with all of my favorite and popular books (seriously, who doesn’t know the Cullens), and he would provide me with all of the profiling, math, history, engineering, psychology, sociology, chemistry, and philosophy books he’d read, along with any other fascinating topics he’d found in paperback form. We would either swap on the jet, or he’d come over to my apartment to read. We’d tried doing it at his apartment once, but I didn’t bring enough books, so it was just easier for him to be near my library. It also occasionally took form in a tv/movie swap. I would force him to watch some of my favorite shows or movies from my childhood like ‘Supernatural’ and ‘The Hunger Games’ among others, and he forced me to watch ‘Doctor Who’ and ‘Star Trek’. This we always did at his place, as to not get bored of my place. It also worked out well because I wasn’t really allowed to go out much, and he just didn’t want to go out much.

The second was ‘jet talk’. Whenever Reid got going on one of his rants, and the information wasn’t dire to the situation or necessary for understanding, I would just interrupt him and say ‘jet talk’. It was my way of letting him know that he was rambling and needed to get to the point, but that he could tell me all of that extra information on the jet. I’d become his new info outlet that he got to share all of those mind-boggling stats with, without being judged or feeling like he was on a time crunch. I had to smile the other day when he started going down that path and he stopped himself saying, “... it was an ancient ritual started by the Mayans in 500 AD, I’ll skip over all the jet talk, but the main purpose was …” It left me feeling gooey for the rest of the day.

So yeah, we’d grown pretty close, and I would say that I was becoming very protective of him, especially when it came to personal threats he’d already overcome and shouldn’t have to deal with again.

Like his father.

Which was why I was completely against the idea when Spencer suggested it.

“I have to talk to him, I have to know what happened,” he pleaded.

“I understand that, but why does it have to be like this? Why does it have to be you?” I countered. I’d suggested that he stay with either myself, Rossi, or Morgan, while the other two went to talk to that asshat for him.

“I know this case better than any of you. I have to be there.” I looked over to Morgan and Rossi for help, but they were staying completely indifferent, not willing to challenge or support either side. Spencer’s eyes were begging me to agree with him.

I sighed. I hadn’t realized our volume had risen until I brought my voice back down, trying to return to a calming tone. “I know. I just really don’t like the idea of you having to be around him. That’s all.”

He nodded. “I know. I don’t like it either, but it’s the best shot we have.”

I looked back over at Morgan and Rossi, and they both gave me a knowing look. I nodded.

“Okay. Let’s go,” I said.

“Wait, all of us?” Derek paused, his attention on Reid. He hesitated.

“If you don’t want all of us there, we understand that,” Rossi offered.

“No, I want you there,” Spencer said, still a bit hesitant.

“Are you sure? Because if you don’t want any of us there,” he looked over at me, “or you don’t think it’d be a good idea to have one or more of us there, that’s fine.”

What the hell was he looking at me for? I was offended, “Rossi, is there something you’re not telling me that I should know about?”

“It’s just that you being there could be …” he trailed off. I wasn’t sure how to fill in that blank, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. What was I doing wrong this time?

“No,” Reid said more confidently. “I want you all there.”

“Okay, kid. Lead the way,” Derek said. My mouth was still open, reeling from the shock followed by the suspense.

Rossi and I shared the back seat of the car on our way over to William Reid’s office, leaving an awkward silence looming over the vehicle.

“Look, I’m sorry. I only meant that-”

“It’s okay, Rossi, seriously. I don’t think I want to know anyway,” I said, which was a lie. I did want to know, I just didn’t want to have that conversation in the back of a car on our way to meet Spencer’s dad, stressing him, and selfishly myself, out even more.

Reid had been confident about his decision to talk to his father all the way up until we entered the building. His whole demeanor changed and he seemed frozen in time.

“Can I help you?” the lady sitting behind the front desk offered.

“Yeah …” Reid said. We all looked at him expectantly, but it was like the words were caught in his throat, like he couldn’t get enough oxygen to continue.

“We’d like to speak with William Reid,” Rossi helped.

“Is he expecting you?”

“I don’t think so.” Rossi held out his badge.

“He’s in a meeting right now, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll tell him you’re here,” she said, turning back to her desk.

“You okay?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah,” Reid answered, his breathing labored. “No, um, yeah. I’m, I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” He took off, speed walking away from us.

“I’ve never seen him like this before,” Derek commented. Neither had I. He’d told me bits and pieces about his family life, but that was a topic we both decided to veer away from. In all other stressful or emotionally taxing situations, he was able to keep his composure. Do the job, be objective. He even kept it together when his mom had to get involved with a case of ours. The only time I’d seen him get even a little rattled was when a case had quite a bit in common with his childhood surrounding schizophrenia right after he got some troubling news about his mother’s health, but all the other ones having to do with absent fathers creating killers didn’t get to him. Granted, those were a dime a dozen.

This, however, was a whole new beast.

“... more of a personal matter,” Rossi was saying to a man near the front desk. I must have zoned out.

“It concerns your son,” Morgan said.

“M-my son? Did something happen,” the man said. So that ugly bastard is his father?

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Reid said, entering the lobby again. His stood more straight, trying to make himself look as tall as possible, and I could tell it was taking all of his effort to appear professional. I saw his back muscles start twitching.

They stared at each other for a few moments, sizing each other up, before Spencer said, “Hello, dad.”

William cleared his throat, “Follow me.” He led us back to his office, Rossi and Morgan sandwiching Reid between them, while I straggled behind, shutting his office door.

“You don’t look like me anymore. You used to, everybody said so,” William started. It was a lame excuse for a connecting point.

“They say some people look like their dogs, too,” Spencer quipped with an eyebrow raise. “It’s attributed to prolonged mutual exposure. Elderly couples also, they unconsciously mimic the expressions of people they’ve been around their whole life, so it kinda … kinda makes sense that I wouldn’t really look like you, I haven’t seen you in 20 years.” Whenever he got anxious, all of his sentences ran together in one long stream of consciousness.

“Are you here on business?” William changed the subject.

“Just wrapping up a case,” Rossi dryly answered.

“A five year old boy was abducted and murdered,” Morgan chimed in.

“Oh, yeah I read about that, Ethan Hayes, right? That’s terrible,” William responded.

“That case got me thinking about Riley Jenkins,” Reid said, and William turned away. “You remember Riley Jenkins?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve been having dreams about him for a really long time, but when we came back here for this case it jogged something and the dream changed. I saw his killer. It was you.”

“Interesting dream.”

“You don’t seem all that surprised,” Morgan questioned.

“I stopped being surprised by Spencer’s mind a long time ago,” William responded.

“There are certain criteria we consider when looking at this type of suspect. You fit parts of that profile,” Rossi said. He was looking at William like he wanted to choke him out right there. I could empathize.

“Me?”

“We just want your cooperation,” Rossi continued.

“My coop-” William started. He looked around at our faces and realized that we were all dead serious. “You’re not actually saying you think I killed Riley Jenkins.”

Reid gave a slight shake of his head. “We didn’t say that.”

“Good, ‘cause that’s absurd,” William stated. That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t just stand there, staring at his face knowing what he did to Spencer and not say anything.

“Is it?” I asked. William looked over at me like he was acknowledging my presence for the first time. “You were able to do something as absurd as abandon your own son, who knows what else you’re capable of.”

Rossi gave me a warning look, but Spencer didn’t even falter, his burning gaze set on William.

“Excuse me?” William asked.

“You heard me,” I simply stated.

“You know, I don’t think I caught your name when I first let you all into my office,” he said, a slight threat resting on his undertone.

“Chambers.”

“And how do you know my son, Chambers,” William asked.

“Your son? You’re getting quite possessive considering you’ve only just now met him for the first time as an adult,” I said. I kept my voice a low growl, trying to keep my head on my shoulders.

“What can I say? I’m concerned about his selection of company.” I scoffed. I was starting to realize why Rossi didn’t think it was a good idea having me around. I quickly scanned myself and remembered that I wasn’t exactly dressed like ‘FBI’ today. I’d already worn all of my official-looking outfits and was left with a more casual one, which I figured was fine because we weren’t ‘officially’ on the job. I was wearing a simple, low cut, white t-shirt under a leather jacket, with black pants and combat boots. My hair was in a ponytail, so from where he was sitting, he could probably spot my four visible tattoos.

“You don’t have a say in my selection of company. You gave that up a long time ago,” Spencer jumped in.

“Well, whatever your friend Chambers is implying-”

“Agent. She’s Agent Chambers,” Reid said. I refrained from smirking.

“Regardless of what Agent Chambers is implying I did, I did not kill Riley Jenkins.”

“We’d just like permission to look through your computer, access your records,” Morgan said, trying to regain control and focus over the situation.

“Yeah and, what would you be looking for exactly?” William challenged. He turned and looked pointedly at Spencer. “You want access to my files? Get a warrant.”

Spencer stared him down, but turned to leave. We headed toward his office door when he decided to add one last thing. “I’m proud of you, you know that? You’ve done a lot of good, choosing to help people. I mean, other people with your talents might have sought out different opportunities, a private sector. My god, you could have made a fortune.” He sighed and the message seemed forced. He sounded condescending, disappointed even, that his son wasn’t making millions.

That’s when I snapped.

“No. You know what, actually, no,” I mumbled to myself, shaking my head and turning around to walk back towards William. I couldn’t even stop myself before I punched him square in the jaw. It caught him so much by surprise that he toppled out of his chair and onto the ground. I placed a foot on his throat, careful not to put too much pressure on it, and squatted down so that I could see the fear in his eyes. “You listen to me, you worthless piece of shit.” I knew that one of the three behind me was calling my name, probably to stop, but I was too hyped up on adrenaline to pay attention. I was committed now. I removed my foot and grabbed a wad of cloth at the base of his neck and yanked him up to standing.

“You’re proud of him? You don’t get to be proud of him. You did nothing to help him get to where he is now. The only thing you did was provide him with the feeling of abandonment and anger, which luckily he was strong enough to use as fuel to become the amazing man standing in front of you, instead of letting it rip him apart. He’s way more than your small mind could ever comprehend, and he is worth way more than the bullshit fortune you wish he was making.”

“He’s also worth more than spending time with a slut like you,” he spat at me. I switched my grip to wrap around his throat, and swiftly shoved him up against the wall.

“You’re right. I have been a shitty person for pretty much my entire life. The only redeeming quality I have, is that I know Doctor Spencer Reid, and for whatever reason, he has allowed me to continually be a part of his life. To be there for him. Which is more than I can say for you. A child, especially a son, needs a good male role model, otherwise they grow up with the feeling that they can’t trust anyone, especially men. They have problems keeping healthy relationships because they can’t trust their partner, or worse, they can’t trust themselves not to end up just like their mom or dad. You were mentally healthy enough to raise him, a luxury that some people don’t have, but instead you were too weak. You left him with a mentally handicapped parent that couldn’t take care of herself, let alone a child. You didn’t even bother checking in on them. What if she’d died? What if their house burnt down? What if something happened and he was left all alone? He would have ended up in foster care or on the streets, and could have easily turned out like one of the monster’s he now hunts.” My face was hot, and I quickly swiped at the dampness on my cheeks. Get it together. My voice lowered to a murmur as the next words rolled off my tongue. It felt like it was the first time I had fully comprehended them myself, “He could have easily turned out like me.”

I swallowed, coming up for air, but I wasn’t done yet. “Is that what you would have wanted? Would you have wanted him coming in here, not to respectfully ask you for your side of the story, not even to just arrest you like he definitely could have, but to come in here looking to kill you? Is that what you wanted! Did you even think about that?”

“No,” was all he could manage to get out. He was choking on his words, so I loosened my grip. But only a little.

“No to what? No you didn’t want that or no you didn’t think about that?”

“Both! I wouldn’t have wanted that for him. And I didn’t think about it that way,” he struggled.

“Exactly. But that’s what you should have been thinking about. You should have been thinking about your child, not yourself.” I released his neck with force, shoving him away from me and further into the wall. I stepped back, giving him room to slouch in on himself. “The least you could do is answer a few simple questions for him. You owe him at least that much.”

With that, I turned around, my brain not even fully capable of processing my co-worker’s reactions, and walked out the door. I kept walking at a feverish pace until I reached the bathroom. The moment I closed the door behind me, I broke down into a sobbing mess.

What is wrong with you? You need to get your shit together! This isn’t even about you, but as always, you had to go and make it about yourself. You are supposed to be there for Spencer, not the other way around. He’s the one having to face his absent father and relive his traumatic childhood, not you. Pull yourself together!

I forced myself to deep breathe.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. In, out. In, out.

I walked over to the sink, careful to avoid the mirror, and splashed my face with water. Once I felt I was sufficiently washed clean of my meltdown, I looked up into my own eyes.

What is happening to you?

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts and refocus on the situation at hand. I grabbed a paper towel and blotted at my face. I took one more quick glance at the mirror, making sure I didn’t look like a complete wreck, and exited the bathroom.

This is about Spencer. Get over yourself. Be there for Spencer.

I walked back out into the main lobby to see that Derek and Rossi were waiting for me.

“Where’s Spencer?” I asked, trying to ignore their worried faces and the urge to just curl up and evaporate into thin air.

“He’s still in there talking to William. They asked us to wait out here,” Morgan answered.

I nodded. “Talking about Riley Jenkins?”

“I’d assume so. You were pretty … convincing,” Rossi commented. I nodded again, not knowing what to say. I stood there with my arms crossed in a self hug, digging into my sides harder than usual trying to control myself and my breathing. I looked down at my feet.

Please don’t ask, please don’t ask, please don’t … wait no. It doesn't matter if they ask because this isn’t about you. This is about Spencer and you all need to be clear headed and focused on him and what he needs.

About 20 minutes later, Spencer emerged looking as pissed as he was before, but now he also looked confused.

“What did he say?” I was quick to ask before the focus could be shifted. Not like I was expecting it to be.

“Not much, just that the three of us should talk about it together,” he answered, voice strained.

“The three of you? Who’s number three?” Morgan asked.

“My mother.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

So I was in an awkward spot. I just blew up the meeting between Spencer and his dad, but I also kind of helped get him talking? I couldn’t tell what he was thinking about it. He seemed irritated and up-tight but those were also feelings he had because of his father and the whole situation, so I didn’t know what to do regarding him going to talk to his mother.

Do I come with, to continue to support him? Do I hang back because I don’t want to cause any more problems? If I hang back and he actually does want me there, then I’m being unsupportive. If I go and he doesn’t want me there, then I’m being pushy.

I tried so hard to look for a hint as to what I should do and it never came. I was forced to breach the topic and ask, “Spencer, what would you like me to do?”

He stopped next to the car and faced me. “What do you mean?”

“I just don’t know … I don’t know if you want me to come with or ..?” I trailed off.

“Oh. Um,” he seemed caught off guard by my question. “My mother is a very difficult person to talk to, and this is a sensitive subject so …”

“You’d rather have me stay here?” I completed. There was no malice in my voice, just concern for him. He wasn’t responding, so I assured him, “Don’t worry if that’s the case. I understand.”

He nodded.

“Why don’t I stay here with Aundreya, which will help lessen the stress on your mother, and you can take Morgan with you to go talk to her?” Rossi offered. Oh no. I knew what that meant. Derek and Spencer nodded at his words, and got into the car together. Rossi gestured for me to join him as he started walking back toward the hotel that was only a few blocks from the office.

I quickly caught up to him and he put his arm out, side-eyeing me and giving me that signature Rossi smirk. For real? I sarcastically let out a sigh and rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help returning the small, closed-lip smile. I looped my arm in his, and we continued to walk. In an alternate universe, he was walking me down the aisle.

We walked in silence for a block before he finally came out with it. “So, would you care to inform me what that little episode was about?”

“I don’t like disrespectful people.”

“Neither do I. That doesn’t mean I’m going to hit every one of them in the face.”

“Well, you tend to have more manners then I do.”

“True. But I also didn’t feel personally connected to that situation.”

“What are you talking about, we are both protective of Reid.”

“We are, but we both know that’s not what I’m referencing,” he said. He stopped walking and turned to face me, taking my hands in his. “Talk to me, Aundreya.”

His eyes were soft but piercing, and his wise-guy aura was getting to my head.

I nodded, squeezed his hands, then dropped them so I could loop my arm back in his. We continued walking as I spoke. “Do you remember what I told you about my family situation about a year ago?”

“You mean when we went to dinner? Yes. You told me that your parents got divorced when you were six, you started living with your mother full time when you were nine, and haven’t had contact with your father since you were ten.” I was surprised that he cared enough to remember all of that.

“Yeah. During those three years that I was splitting time between my parents, my sister and I had to deal with my abusive father. It was mostly verbal abuse and mental and emotional manipulation. Honestly, I’ve dumped most of the memories from that time period,” I said. He glanced over at me, silently inviting me to continue, so I did. “Just the feeling I got every time he showed up to a game of mine when I didn’t want him there, or I ran into him for any other purpose, was the worst mix of feelings I’ve ever experienced. It was terror and discomfort and panic and hatred. I felt physically sick every time and it was like my brain stopped working. Even though I don’t really remember everything that happened to me, that he did to me, I just have this overwhelming feeling of disgust. I guess that Spencer’s dad demeaning him like that, and his situation being kind of similar to mine, just set me off.”

Rossi nodded and his features told me he was deep in thought. He was probably still trying to process everything I’d told him. “You felt the need to fight back.”

“Yes.”

“Can I make an assumption here?” He looked concerned. I just shrugged and nodded. “I think that while you were going through that, your big sister protected you, and you were her support system to fall back on, to keep her grounded. You’ve since become quite the fighter, and somewhere in there,” he gestured to my head, “you regret not fighting back harder when you had the chance. You regret not helping your sister out, and you now feel the need to help Spencer out and fight back like you think you should have with your own father.”

It was stunning to me that he could dissect my thoughts better than I could. Everything he said struck a nerve and made complete sense. I’d been trying to figure myself out for over ten years, and he’d figured me out in under ten seconds. It’s astonishing how that works.

“Damn Rossi. You’re so good at this stuff,” I said, and he offered a gentle laugh. “Seriously. You just described a thought process that I’ve had for ages that I didn’t even know I’ve had for ages until you just now told me about it.”

“Hey, it’s much much easier examining what’s going on with someone else than it is to have to self diagnose. There’s a reason they say that doctors are the worst patients,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“Am I your patient now?” I asked, returning the eyebrow raise.

“Would you like to be?”

“If you’re going to enlighten me like that all the time, hell yeah.”

He smiled. “Alright then. That’ll cost you $17.99 up front and an additional $5.99 each month after.”

“Oh, well in that case, just kidding. It isn’t that important to me,” I laughed.

“Well, if you can convince Reid to drink half as much coffee, it’ll be included in the budget.” I laughed again. It felt good after a weird and taxing day.

“Well then I’m definitely screwed!” Oh right. Speaking of, “How do you think it’s going?”

“I’m not sure. I hope for the kid’s sake that it’s going well.”

“Me too.” We entered the hotel, and decided we’d wait in the lobby playing cards until they came back.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

They didn’t get back until 11 that night, during which time they’d talked to Diana, arrested William, released him, found out that Gary Michaels was dead but was the killer, arrested Lou Jenkins for the murder of Gary Michaels, and finally got the whole story out of Diana and William.

“And you didn’t call us?” I accused, grogginess in my voice. Rossi and I had since fallen asleep in the lobby chairs, but only for less than an hour. That was a lot to go through for just the two of them in the back half of the day.

“We had it covered,” Derek answered. I couldn’t help feeling guilty, like it was my fault they didn’t call because they thought I was too unstable.

“So what now?” I asked, trying to brush the feeling off.

“Nothing. We let the local police handle it and we head back tomorrow,” Derek replied. Rossi and I nodded.

“We should all get some sleep,” Rossi commented, surveying our faces.

He had a point, so we headed up to our respective rooms and I just about crashed the moment I entered mine. My stomach growled and I remembered that I’d skipped lunch and Rossi and I forgot to get dinner. Our nerves must have been too amplified to be overpowered by hunger. It didn’t matter now because Reid got his answers, triggering relief to course through my veins and I was much too tired to care about food. I was on the brink of sleep when I heard a gentle knock on the door.

I grudgingly got up and looked out the peep-hole. It was Spencer.

“Hey,” I said with a bit more energy, opening the door.

“Hey,” he said. He stood there in silence giving me an expectant look.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Come in.” The lack of sleep and sustenance was starting to show. I moved to the side so that he could slip by me. He sauntered toward the bed in the middle of the room and sat down. I followed suit. I waited patiently for him to speak, because I knew whatever caused him to come to my room at 11:30 after a stressful day was important, and he had to say it in his own time.

“Thank you.” His voice was a small whisper and I felt like I hadn’t heard him right. What does he possibly have to thank me for?

“For what?” I murmured.

“For staying with me through this. For trying to protect me and standing up for me. For respecting my space. And for letting me come into your room late at night to tell you this.”

“Of course. I’d do anything for you,” I said. It had come out so casually that I almost missed it. Spencer looked up at me with utter shock, which zapped me right back into reality. Oh shit. Had that really just tumbled out of my mouth?

I panicked and tried to quickly cover it up. “Like I’m happy to be here for you and you are welcome to come bug me at any time, day or night. I’m probably not doing anything interesting and I’m probably not getting much sleep either.” Although I could really use some right now if it would help me shut the hell up and stop spouting stupid shit.

Spencer’s mouth was still hanging slightly ajar from the shock of my initial comment. When he realized that I was just going to sit there staring at him until he did something, he shut his mouth and looked away from me again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“You weren’t just talking to my dad in that office, were you?”

I sighed and met his warm brown eyes. I swear those things change color on the daily. Sometimes they’re a perfect hazel, sometimes they’re a light caramel brown, sometimes they’re a dark chocolatey brown, and sometimes, when the light hits right, they look as gold as the soul behind them.

“No,” I admitted, “I was talking to both of them.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Do you wanna hear about it?” I countered. He nodded shyly. “You know how I told you that my parents got divorced and I lived with both of my parents equally for three years and then my mom got full custody?”

“Yes.”

“Well, those three year were hell. I can’t remember everything that happened to me because I must’ve dumped most of it. I told Rossi that I didn’t remember anything at all, but that was a lie. The really big incidents, I remember. Like I remember him shoving me up against a brick wall giving me whiplash for the next two weeks. I remember him cussing out my mother in the rec center, him screaming at us in the car, especially after going to see the therapist, and leaving my sister on the side of the road because she pushed too many of his buttons. I remember him pushing me down on the bed and forcing my legs open so he could look at the rash between them, even though I begged him to just let my sister help me with it,” I choked. I hadn’t told anyone this. I hadn’t really talked about it with my mom and sister much when they were alive. “I remember having panic attacks and being constantly terrified that he was going to kill my mom or sister. And I just remember this intense feeling of complete hopelessness and dread whenever I was around him or his family. They were suffocating.”

He looked at me, eyes glistening, and he let a heavy teardrop fall. I slowly brought my hand to his face, asking silent permission, and when I got no resistance, placed it softly on his cheek. My fingers barely brushed his jaw as my thumb lightly wiped away the tear. I breathed, “Don’t cry. Don’t cry for me. It was a long time ago, and I am who I am today because of it.”

He put his own hand atop mine, engulfing it, subconsciously applying a bit more pressure which I was happy to comply with.

“It’s just … It’s just that no one should have to go through that. Even if it was a long time ago.” He closed his eyes, leaning into my hand.

“I know. Neither one of us deserved what we got, but we survived and came out the other side. That’s what matters now.” I placed my other hand on his cheek, and tilted his head slightly up towards mine. “How are you doing?”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “No. I just want you to know that without you, I couldn’t have solved this or gotten the answers I needed. I appreciate your strength to face my father like that.”

“And I admire yours to do the same.” He leaned out of my touch, leaving me feeling cold and got up to leave. I didn’t even know what I was saying before I blurted, “Wait.”

He turned.

“Do you want to stay?” I was too tired to fight the words, too tired to even be surprised by them.

“I’d like that,” he responded. I smiled and he returned it. I didn’t want him to be alone with his thoughts and nightmares, and I selfishly didn’t want to be alone with mine either. He slipped off his shoes and I kicked off mine and he came to lay down next to me. Neither of us cared about the clothes we were still wearing and definitely wrinkling from the long day. I took big spoon, knowing he needed me more than I needed him at the moment, even if he wasn't ready to talk about what he’d just experienced over the last 24 hours yet.

I was just about to pass out, arms hooked on my own elbows around him when he whispered, “I never explained this to you, but I think deep down the reason I was so resistant to you at the beginning was because I knew you and I were only a choice or two away from living the other person’s life.”

“Spencer,” I murmured, “you don’t owe me an explanation.”

“I want you to have one, though.”

“Thanks. I’m just glad that the one or two choices after that led to our paths crossing.”

“Yeah. Me too.” That was all he could get out before both of us slipped under, able to finally relax in each other’s arms, finding reprieve from the relentless struggles of the waking world.

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hongjoongpresent · 3 years

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"I'll get straight to the point, instead of pleasantries. This all happened while I was working as a full time waitress, back before I had any desire to be an actress. I worked at a fairly nice restaurant, the pay was enough and my regulars always tipped nicely. I had this one man, who usually came in nightly, always had a drink or two and maybe a snack, and then left. Nobody knows his real name, and I didn't until recently. His name was Jack Smitt, but everybody called him Old Man. It's not like he minded, he enjoyed the nickname. Said it made him feel rather fatherly. So we all called him that, and it was a constant routine. He would come in, order a drink, he would chat with the other regulars and make other diners feel welcome. On the rare occasion he DID order food, he always ordered apple pie. I made sure to save him some every day just in case, because I know it's his favorite. If you couldn't tell, all of us really do...well...DID consider him a national treasure. He was friendly with all the kids, taught a few teenagers to play card games, and he was never rude or inappropriate to anybody. He would give the waiters compliments occasionally but he never made anybody uncomfortable. The father I never had. One night, he didn't come in. This was strange, he was ALWAYS there on Friday! I had his seat saved and everything- and the fact that he didn't show up? It made all of us worried. He didn't have a phone, and we didn't want to call the police because we didn't know if he was ok or not. We decided to wait for a while. I didn't work weekend shifts, I usually babysat my little brother for my mother while she did errands. So when I got to work on Monday, my coworker, Penny, told me that he hadn't been there all weekend. That's when we began to panic, knowing he lived alone...what if something happened!? I decided, if I didn't see him that night, I would call the police. And low and behold, he didn't turn up. I pulled out my phone and dialed the local police station. As I described the situation and Jack to the police, they seemed to understand my fear. The woman stayed on the phone with me as they sent officers to go check on Jack. She told me it was easy to pull up his files, since he was close with the family of one of the other officers. At one point she had to go deal with something and we had to hang up, and as I had just finished closing up, a police car pulled up to the restaurant. My breath hitched as the officer walked inside, looking quite grim. He opened his mouth to say something and I interrupted him. I asked if he was ok and the officer shook his head. He told me that...Jack had passed away. The cause of death was still undetermined but because of his old age, they ruled it was natural causes. It felt like I couldn't speak...my mouth was dry and I solemnly nodded. The officer wished me a good night and left. I broke into sobs as soon as the door closed behind the man. Coming from a broken home, I never had a stable father. He was always away and I never got to see him. And when I did? He was cruel. He ignored me and yelled at me whenever I tried to talk to him. I remember his words exactly. Women should be seen and not heard. Sexist bastard. Jack was the father I never had, and his death was a hard blow for me. The next day I broke the news to my other coworkers and a few of the regulars who were friends with him. That night the restaurant was silent...covered in a sad gloom...without Jack's smile to light up the room, and his loud laugh to brighten everybody up...everybody was upset. It was like this for a few days, and it was horrible for everybody. One night...I was closing up alone again. As I exited the bathrooms, putting my cleaning supplies up, the bell signaling that somebody had come in rang though the quiet. I didn't bother looking into the dining area, saying loud and clear 'The restaurant is closed' and I heard a voice... It was Jack's voice. As clear as day, he replied to me... 'I'm just here for a drink, Sophie' My eyes widened and I dropped my mop, racing into the dining

area. But there was nobody there. I frowned and sighed, thinking I was finally going crazy. I continued to clean up and finally I left, still a bit shaken up. That night, entering my apartment, I made sure it was locked securely. If anything like that happened again I would know for sure that it was simply a hallucination...I made a small mental note about the schizophrenia symptoms, though knew it probably wasn't that. I made myself something to eat and settled on the couch to watch a bit of TV. That's when I got a call from my one of my coworkers, Annie. I answered it and asked her what she was doing, calling me this late at night. It was nearly one in the morning, and usually Annie was asleep by this time. She sounded frantic and I grew worried. 'S-SOPHIE!!' She cried into the phone, making me jump a bit. 'Annie- are you alright-? What's going on?' I asked, sitting up a bit more. 'I-I SAW J-JACK- I-IN THE M-MIRROR-!' She shrieked. I sighed, shaking my head. She always had been one for ghosts and demons and such. I calmly told her it was just a figment of her imagination and she would be just fine. I told her to drink some water and go to bed. She tried to argue but I just kept telling her the same thing. She finally gave up and told me goodnight, hanging up. I tried to do the same. I tried my hardest to sleep, I really did...but my room was filled with a deep chill...and I couldn't stop thinking about earlier. Maybe it was part of the grieving process? No...Hallucination wasn't normal. And it happened to Annie? I thought, for a second that maybe, just maybe, ghosts were real. But I quickly brushed it off with a small chuckle. The next day I showed up to work, exausted. Everybody asked if I was alright and I just dismissed them with the excuse that I had a late night. That night I decided to close up alone again, and that night something happened that I'll never forget. As I was cleaning the stove, the same bell rang through the restaurant. I took a deep breath and slowly crept to the front of the restaurant, seeing a shadow pass through the room quickly...but besides that, there was no trace of anybody I the room. I shivered slightly and felt myself tear up. I quickly wiped my eyes and finished up. I didn't want to think about Jack anymore, I didn't want to think I was going crazy anymore. That was the last time anything direct like that has happened. I still see shadows occasionally or feel a strange sensation even if I'm alone. Annie quit working at the restaurant a few weeks after the night she'd called me, claiming she got horribly evil vibes from Jack's particular booth. I caught wind that the restaurant had closed down a little bit ago...of course I feel bad but I wouldn't work there ever again. My job now is steady and besides the occasional shadow scare I'm a perfectly happy person. But I no longer hold the belief that ghosts don't exist."

here you go!

HI THIS IS SO COOL

#ask #a-terrible-ride #long post #!!!!!! woah

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derl30 · 3 years

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ALTERED STATES REVIEW TIME!

OK, this tumblr is, today, a vehicle for me to review ALTERED STATES. And you (the one person who stumbled on this review two-hundred years from n- oh who am I kidding, when the aliens from A.I. who show up to thaw out Haley Joel Osment and the teddy bear who was the real hero of that movie find this) should be very excited about this. Because this movie is insane. And highly entertaining.

Yes, the movie poster looks like ass. If I told you this was a movie where William Hurt (not the William Hurt from that awful 90's Lost in Space remake, or the one who slept through an entire performance as Duke Leto in the Syfy miniseries of Dune. This is before the body snatchers got him) took ayahuasca and got in a isolation tank and it blew his mind so hard he started devolving into a neanderthal and creating dimensional portals and he couldn't stop because he was addicted to finding the truth of existence... Well you wouldn't get that from this poster, would you? So let's move on. Shall we?

The film opens in 1967 with William Hurt's character, psychopathologist Edward Jessup, already immersed in a sensory deprivation tank, whilst his colleague and “buddy” Bob Balaban (he's just Bob Balaban in everything I'm not giving you his character's name look it up yourself if it's bugging you so much) oversees.

Now, you may notice I put buddy in quotes. The reason for that is that Jessup is a self-obsessed ass who seemingly has no reason to be around other people unless he can expound to them one of his various monologues. Bob Balaban barely gets a word in edgewise throughout the entire film. Bob Balaban.

See, Jessup loves the sensory deprivation tank experience. Unsurprisingly, as it allows him to be completely alone with himself for hours.

Later, at perhaps the lamest party ever, a bunch of faculty are chilling out and listening to the Doors. Everyone we see is talking about Jessup. Why? Well, much as Jessup is obsessed with himself, everyone else seems to follow suit by being obsessed with him. One young woman, Emily, (Blair Brown) is introduced to him in this very shot below as he arrives at the party:

Notice how is framed in holy light? There is a closeup after, of him framed in blinding glowing light followed up with a zoom in on Emily's face, enraptured with this incredible dynamic man. So much so that the moment he tries to make a goddamn sandwich she starts grabbing his celery (get your mind out of the gutter) and flirting with him. Which for these two that means talking science, immediately. Talking more at each other than with each other. This is often the way with Paddy Chayefsky's scripts.

PAUSE

Paddy Chayefsky is doubtless one of the great American writers for the screen. He wrote Marty, The Hospital and Network (which is a fucking incredible piece of work). He got an Oscar for all three. He also wrote this movie (Altered States, remember? Good lord) and disowned it completely three weeks in to production. His scripts tend to have very intelligent, driven characters at the center, who monologue extensively at each other. These scripts are not attempting to sound naturalistic.

Ken Russell, however, directed the film. He, like Chayefsky, is top notch at what he does (Direct. I said he directed the film like a second ago, come on keep up). His films, like Women in Love, The Devils, (which was banned in several major countries upon release and has never been shown publicly in its full, uncut form (by the way it's a masterpiece)) the Who's Tommy, Gothic, and Lair of the White Worm are all fucking gonzo nuts. I mean like, when you gave this guy the reins, you were going to Overthetopsville and there will be no stops on this trip. And god bless! I love directors who GO for it!

You're getting the chance to make a movie. Stop hemming and hawing and hit me over the head with what you want to say! Film is a visual medium, USE IT!

I feel I might have made my feelings clear here. So, moving on...

Ken Russell and Paddy Chayefsky immediately started butting heads, right from the start. Chayefsky was a BIG deal, and he wanted control over the picture in a BIG way. Ken would listen to his suggestions on everything to lighting and set dressing, and politely tell him, “No.”, and continue being the director of the film. Chayefsky hated him pretty quickly.

He had much more control over films like The Hospital. Which, if you watch The Hospital, well, it shows. You've got great actors (George C. Scott, Dame Diana Rigg (Dame may be the greatest official title of all time)) saying great dialogue. But its just two very witty bitter people sort of expounding on topics and speaking at each other and suddenly admitting they are in love and discussing what drapes they will have to buy for their new home. It's utterly preposterous, and it doesn't work in the way Sidney Lumet got it to work in Network, by literally making one of the lead characters realize his life is turning into a ludicrous soap opera.

So of course Ken tried to humanize, naturalize, the dialogue sequences. And it works! The film feels more human than the Hospital or Network. Despite the fact that Jessup is literally becoming more and more inhuman throughout the film. One of the ways he does this is by having the character's eat, drink, and work on other things during the dialogue sequences. This is perfectly normal in film, it's called giving the actor “business” to do, during the scene. Chayefsky HATED this. “They are mumbling my precious dialogue! Chewing through it! Sucking it through a straw!” Sorry, Chayefsky buddy. It works for the picture. Chayefsky also felt the actors were too emotional with his dialogue. Right. See, they call that acting.

UNPAUSE

Which brings us back to the first meeting of Emily and Jessup at the party. They are eating during this important scene! I can just picture Chayefsky seeing this, and running to the studio brass to tattle and get Ken Russell fired (as he got Arthur Penn of Bonnie and Clyde fame fired before Ken Russell came on board).

Emily and Jessup are, true to Chayefsky form, extremely intelligent, driven people and hearing them discuss topics such as anthropology and schizophrenia is quite interesting. It's just that what is to come, film being a visual medium, will eclipse just about any dialogue, no matter how good, from our mind thingys.

The two give up on the science talk and go straight to banging on her couch. After, she asks what he was thinking about. His answer is priceless. “God. Jesus. Crucifixions.”

She smiles.

Bwahahaha! Oh Paddy Chayefsky, you sure know women.

He admits he used to have religious visions. She listens to him from the sweaty couch whilst he sits naked on the floor, and starts going on about his father's horrible death of cancer and his loss of faith. And he admits to her that he's a nut. Her response is to call him a fascinating bastard. I think Lucas may have taken notes for Padme and Anakin.

So naturally, they get married immediately.

But none of that matters because Jessup gets back in the sensory deprivation tank and has his first vision. A nightmare of his dying father and lost faith in christianity. It's pretty great, filled with foreboding hospital rooms, his father's face being covered in a burning Shroud of Turin, everything covered by horrible blood red clouds and then THIS FUCKING THING SHOWS UP AND ITS ALIVE AND WRIGGLING

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

excuse me...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

The many-eyed goat is slaughtered over a gold bible and suddenly Jessups screwing Emily again and we enter a blood vessel looking thing and the vision ends and he never mentions this again. Oh. Okay,

Emily continues on about what a nut Jessup is as they make marriage plans. Her monologue:

“You're an unmitigated madman. You don't have to tell me how weird you are. I know how weird you are. I'm the girl in your bed the past two months. Even sex is a mystical experience for you. You carry on like a flagellant... Which can be very nice, but I sometimes wonder if it's me that's being made love to. I feel like I'm being harpooned by some raging monk in the act of receiving God. (Emphasis mine)

"And you are a Faust-freak Eddie! You'd sell your soul to find the great truth. Well, human life doesn't have great truths. We're born in doubt. We spend our lives persuading ourselves we're alive. And one way we do that is we love each other, like I love you. I can't imagine living without you. So let's get married, and if it turns out to be a disaster, it'll be a disaster.”

It's a disaster.

As in, by the next scene. It starts off happy enough looking, they have kids and people are smiling. And hey, wow it's seven years later! But, well, see, whoops, they are getting a divorce. Well, not they. See, he is divorcing her because he considers the seven years with her a complete waste.

She still loves him, desperately. He doesn't give a shit about her or the kids. He tells Bob Balaban this, straight up. And then starts bugging him about deprivation tanks and Hinchi Indians in South America who have sacred mushrooms that can really fuck you up.

It's at this point you would like for Jessup to be hit by a Mack truck. But the movie continues on. By the way, this is one of the kids he doesn't give a crap about:

That's right. Drew Barrymore's first role is a kid that William Hurt doesn't give a shit about. Something that William Hurt would make a career out of with narcoleptic performances in Lost in Space and Syfy's Dune. So, Emily takes the kids to Africa for her anthropology work while Jessup goes to South America to go deeper into his own creepy mind.

The Hinchi Indians agree to allow him to participate in the drug ritual. They enter their holy cave.

This shot is beautiful. At this point the film becomes increasingly gorgeous. Ken Russell has started to go into overdrive, ladies and gentlemen. Buckle. Your. Seatbelts.

The Indians grab Jessup's hand and cut him, freaking him out. They pour his blood into the drug mixture. They begin to drink. Then he takes a sip. The intensity of the film here has quadrupled. The vision begins, fireworks going off all around him. He sees cave paintings of humans and komodo dragons and this:

The proper life he left behind with Emily. He's convulsing, sweating. The Indians are all around, masked. Snakes. He's laughing in pain. Energy spills from the void. A snake under the parasol strikes and begins to strangle him. He and Emily march toward a nuclear explosion as energy pours from the cut on his hand, becoming a lizard. From within a sandstorm, Emily watches him, naked. Jessup looks at her, entranced, as the soothing sands cover them both, slowly.

It's a beautiful sequence. A perfect film sequence. I can't overstate how strong the vision sequences are from this point forward. Great visual effects work and the madman mind of Ken Russell create something unforgettable, with it's own pace, independent from the rest of the film.

Jessup awakens with a komodo dragon laying before him, ripped to pieces. The Indians and the others all claim he killed it in rage. Jessup remembers nothing, takes samples of the drug to reproduce it, and goes back home.

Back home, Jessup keeps doing as much of the drug as he can and having Bob Balaban record results. They can't up the dosage any more so Jessup hops back in to the self deprivation tank to create a more extreme experience.

In his next session, Jessup states he is having a vision of early man, hunting a deer and killing it. Suddenly he states he is one of them, killing the deer. He begins to grunt like an animal. The two pull him out. He's incredibly pale, blood seeping out of his mouth. He can't speak, and has difficulty breathing. He insists they do an X-ray. It shows that there is a vocalizing lump in the front part of his throat. Jessup claims that his body had begun to revert to a simian state. The medical doctor agrees, stating the throat X-rays looks like that of a gorilla.

Luckily his throat returns to normal. So Jessup finishes up his day by having over a student of his and sleeping with her.

Our hero, people!

At this point we hardly feel sorry for him as his body suddenly begins to twist and bulge in the middle of the night, shifting in and out of neanderthal shapes. It's a horrific sequence, disturbing as hell. You certainly didn't expect the film to shift into body horror.

Jessup feels normal after a while. but sees visions of lava explosions, the birthing of the Earth all around him. Not a good sign.

He goes to pick up Emily from the airport the next day. She asks how he is doing.

“Oh, fine.”

Yeah right.

Emily has been told what Jessup has been doing and is worried, which of course pisses off Jessup even more. The guy is obviously obsessed with reaching the truth and root of existence, much as Emily surmised earlier, and we see he has no fear of even losing his own soul, again true to her word. The only thing that allows us to give a shit about him at this point is that Emily cares for him and she's decent people, okay?

So back Jessup goes into the tank with his ayahuasca or whatever it is. Alone. The tank door opens from the inside.

The hand that pushes it open is covered in thick hair. He's devolved.

Ape-Jessup escapes the tank room and chases a janitor around the building. Again, this scene is fucking freaky as hell. We can't get a good look at this screaming animal that was Jessup.

The janitor gets a guard to help and chases after him into the boiler room, where we finally get a good look at him when he assaults the security guard and escapes.

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Ape-Jessup runs through the city at night, making his way to the zoo where he kills a antelope and eats it. The Ape-Jessup sequence goes on way too long, but is nonetheless unforgettable. The makeup is much more convincing than the above picture suggests, and whoever performed Ape-Jessup did an admirable job.

The cops find an unconscious Jessup in the zoo and bring him in. Emily picks him up and questions him. Jessup admits everything that he can remember. He also admits that he probably killed that security guard. And once again doesn't seem to give a shit. Prick. He calls it the most supremely satisfying time of his life.

Even Emily seems disgusted with him. But, she's also fascinated with what he's accomplished. As an anthropologist, his transformation fascinates her. And so, she agrees to help oversee his next session. Big mistake.

Before the big session Emily and Jessup romantically reconnect, and then into the climactic session we go!

Get your popcorn ready!

After a few hours in to the session, the video monitor shows Jessup begin to literally melt apart like goo, reverting to primordial ooze, the very beginning of existence. An attempt to open the isolation tank doors blasts everyone unconscious, as light and energy pour forth. Emily is the only one left. She sees Jessup's life energy pulse from within the tank.

Rain pours down around them. The pipes on the walls twist and turn like jelly. The ground is covered with a pool of swirling fog and energy. Emily advances toward the vortex of the tank.

In the emptiness of the beginning of everything, Emily seizes the energy before her and reconstitutes Jessup.

They take him home. While he sleeps, Emily rages over the fact that she loves such a insane bastard, and can't get over him. And, then, after Bob Balaban leaves, leaving Emily alone, Jessup wakes up.

He sweetly admits that the truth he learned was that there was no learnable truth, just unknowable horror, and all that's real is human experience. And he'll be a good boy from now on. Well too bad!

Because that horrible truth isn't done with him, and it's back to goo-Jessup! Emily tries to help him, grabbing him, but this in turn effects her, turning her into a shimmering lava form of herself. Both of them begin to self-destruct as Jessup, enraged, watching her in pain, struggles to retake his humanity, slamming himself into the wall, reforming himself through sheer will and physicality. He grabs her and brings her back, mirroring what she did for him during the final session. They embrace naked in the hallway. He finally admits, “I love you, Emily.”

Fade to credits.

Awww true love!

What can I say to sum up? Awesome 80's practical effects. Genius wacko go-for-it Ken Russell directing. Out of this world vision sequences. A awake and actually remarkable performance from William Hurt. An occasionally turgid but often fascinating script by the ever ornery Paddy Chayefsky. Whats not to like?

Well, the ending is a little rushed. The ape sequence goes on for a little too long and takes up perhaps too much of the films overall running time. The central love story is, well... a little hard to swallow, but hey, I guess there really is somebody out there for everyone. Even self-absorbed, deadbeat, cheating, sensory deprivation loving, ayahuasca dropping, Harvard teachers with a messiah complex!

And on that note, aliens from A.I. Artifical Intelligence, have a good day, and don't leave poor Teddy alone with no one to keep him company!

Sayonara!

#altered states #ken russell #movies #review #funny?

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need-a-new-hobby · 4 years

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Demonology

note: this is my first emily centred fic, i hope i’ve done it justice \\ emily’s such a badass, i just imaging piper looking up to her and being so heartbroken to see her so sad \\ warnings: attempted depiction of loss and grief \\ apologies in advance if i have misrepresented grief, please do tell me if i have

“No way. Inigo every single time.” Piper shook her head at Garcia as she tossed a popcorn kernel in her mouth.

“But Westley became a freaking bandit for Buttercup!”

“Yeah, and Inigo spends the rest of his childhood and young adulthood mastering the sword for his father,” Piper argued. “How is that not attractive?”

“Because Westley is cuter.” Garcia stomped and Piper was about to launch her popcorn kernel at Garcia’s eye when she spotted a dripping Emily in the elevator. “Hey, Em! Who’s your favourite from the Princess Bride, Inigo or Westley?” But Garcia garnered no response as Emily staggered towards her, slightly shivering.

“Did you get that file for Tommy Vee like I asked?” Emily’s voice tumbled out, shaking and shivering, and Piper instinctively pulled off her own knee-length coat, holding it out to Emily. But she ignored it, reaching for the file instead. Piper faltered, tucking her coat over her arm. “Is Hotch still here?”

“I’m pretty sure he lives here…” Penelope trailed off as Emily pushed past between them. “What’s up with her?”

“Dunno. Guess she doesn’t want to talk about it yet,” Piper commented as Penelope pushed forward to the elevator. Piper stared at the door Emily went through until Penelope called out her name. “JJ’s coming back tomorrow right?”

“Yep. I’m thinking lasagne to celebrate her first day back.”

“Great idea.” The elevator doors closed as Emily tumbled her way to Hotch’s office, numb to the bone. But that wasn’t because of the rain.

“I just found out that... An old friend of mine died.” Emily fought the tears threatening to spill over the brink of her eyelashes.

“I'm sorry. Do you need to take some time?”

“Um... There's a chance that he could have been murdered, and there might be a second case.”

“What do you need?”

“Just some leeway to check it out.”

“Of course. Anything.”

“Thank you,”

“Emily, if you want to take a few days and let us look into it...” Hotch offered, taking a step towards his battered agent.

“Matthew was...incredibly messed up, and I hadn't seen him in a long time, but he was important to me,” Emily explained, though there was no need.

“At least let us help.” Emily nodded as she sniffled and left the office after thanking him.

Somehow, she managed to stumble home, eyes fluttering closed as her head hit the pillow. She woke up early later that morning, dragging herself into the shower. As the water pounded her skin, she closed her eyes and there he was, bright as day. Before the drugs. Before the alcohol. Holding hands high, glee-stricken faces. Hot water melded with tears as they streamed down Emily’s face.

Emily thought she’d be the first one at the office, except she saw Piper doing paperwork at her desk. “Piper, it’s 7 am.” Without looking up or halting her pen, Piper gave her some excuse that Emily saw right through.

“Fine. I was worried about you.”

“I—” Before Emily could respond, Hotch appeared from his office, telling Emily the M.E. was ready to see her and Piper grabbed her grey winter coat, wrapping it around the pale turtleneck she was already wearing as well as her bike keys.

“C’mon. You can explain when we get there. I don’t have a spare helmet though.” Piper’s bike was liberating as it weaved through traffic, wind whipping Emily’s charcoal hair into a frenzy. They skidded to a stop outside the morgue and Emily unhooked her leg from around the bike.

“Now I get how you’re the first at scenes,” Emily joked weakly as Piper shook out her hair.

“Trust me, helmet hair is not fun.” Piper said as she hooked an arm around Emily’s, striding into the morgue with her. As the examiner revealed Matthew Benton’s pale body, Emily choked, and Piper answered her cell. “Got it.”

“Is it possible someone could have induced the heart attack?” Emily managed to ask.

“The easiest way to stop the heart is an injection of potassium. I would have found traces.”

“There's no other way?”

“I suppose it's possible he could have been injected with epinephrine. It wouldn't register, because clinically, it's identical to the natural adrenalin in the body.”

“Did he have a medical history of cardiac problems?”

“No. The attack was induced by his prolonged abuse of drugs and methamphetamines.”

“Was he tied?” Emily lifted Matthew’s wrists gently, stomach sick.

“The wounds are superficial.”

“Anything else out of the ordinary?”

“He bled heavily from his nose, but with the damage to his septum, my guess is that it was prolonged abuse of cocaine or methamphetamine.”

“And what about the other autopsy,” Piper asked. “Thomas Valentine?” The ME nodded, turning to the next body.

“He died of dehydration. There were traces of prescription antipsychotics in his system. I understand from his family he had a history of mental illness.”

“So, his death was induced by the antipsychotics too?” The doctor nodded

“Piper.” Emily held up Thomas’s wrist.

“Considering the self-inflicted wounds and the history of mental illness, the police didn't suspect foul play.”

“So, you have 2 bodies with ligature marks – each superficial. But you just dismiss them?” Emily confronted the examiner

“There's no medical reason to connect these deaths,” the ME defended herself. Nervous by Emily’s undiplomatic outbursts, Piper excused them, and they walked out into the rain. Before Emily could hook her leg around the bike, Piper tugged at her arm.

“Hey, we’ll find out who did this.” Emily’s shoulder sagged.

“You believe me?” Piper’s stomach dropped at the desperation in Emily’s voice as rain dripped down her coat.

“Always.” Piper shot Emily a soft smile as she donned her helmet and they drove back to the office.

While JJ fixed Piper and Emily a hot cup of coffee, the others filed in, filling in Piper, Emily and JJ. Thomas Valentine was a schizophrenic who was married but lived alone. Spencer and Derek described how his wife took the kids away to protect them and how he was cursing God. Rossi and Hotch filled them in on Mrs Benton’s firm belief that Matthew was possessed, and Emily scoffed at that.

“Matthew had a thing about challenging the church. He could push it. When we were in high school, his mom and dad consulted a priest because they were afraid that he was possessed.” Derek pointed out that Mrs Valentine had suggested the same thing and both houses had scuff marks under the beds.

“Well, drug addiction and schizophrenia are the most common conditions to be misconceived as possession.” Piper spoke rationally, trying to fit things together. “Plus, both had conditions that could induce their deaths what with both having consistent levels of drugs in their system. Could the unsub have known these conditions?” The question wasn’t directed towards anyone in particular and Penelope’s rush into the room pushed it to the side.

“So, both Thomas Valentine and Matthew Benton were in Galicia, Spain over the same week 4 months ago.”

“That mean anything to you?”

“Yeah.” Piper stood up. “Galicia is one of the biggest Christian pilgrimage sites in the world and the cathedral is absolutely breathtaking.” Spencer noticed the gleam in Piper’s eyes. “Actually, it’s been a UNESCO World Heritage Site since the 90’s.” Derek threw his hands up and took a seat.

“So what, we think these are exorcisms?”

“It could be.” Piper leaned on the mahogany table, challenging Derek.

“Look, I know the Bible just as well as anyone, but I also know there's nothing more open to behavioural interpretation than religion.”

“Meaning what?”

“I think it's dangerous for us to wanna find a connection between these deaths.” Piper nodded slowly and straightened.

“Spencer, to the best of your knowledge, what are the main causes of heart attacks?”

“Complete or partial blockage of the coronary artery, age, high blood pressure, high triglyceride levels, obesity, diabetes, metabolic syndrome, family history of heart attacks, lack of physical activity, stress, illicit drug use, a history of preeclampsia, an autoimmune condition…”

“And apart from drugs, how many of those apply to both our victims?”

“Well, really it’s just drugs and stress.”

“Right, Emily?” Emily hummed as she sipped her coffee. “How long had Matthew been using?”

“Since we were about 16. Why?”

“Right, so if Matthew is almost 30, he’s been using for at most 15 years, wouldn’t there have been a sign before now?” They were all silent, staring at her, then Derek. “Guys, my math skills aren’t that bad.” Spencer shrugged, muttering that calling them skills was a bit of a stretch. She resisted the urge to slap him with a hardcover, mainly because the only thing in her hand was a cup of coffee. “What about silent killers, things you can’t see in a medical exam?”

“Chronic stress, maybe,” Reid suggested.

“Guys, don’t you think this is a stretch? I mean seriously, stress?”

“When stress is excessive, it can contribute to everything from hypertension, to ulcers to irritable bowel syndrome,” Spencer said.

“What could the guy be that stressed about?” Tired from Derek’s negativity, Emily slammed down two pictures of Thomas and Matthew’s wrists.

“Maybe he was stressed about a guy holding him down, trying to banish the devil out of him.” Emily stared him down until JJ squeezed her arm and soothed her back into her seat.

“Guys, look, I'm willing to say that we might have an unsub who ritualises killings as if they were exorcisms, maybe, but right now, we don't even know if we have a crime yet.” But before Piper or Emily could retaliate, Rossi intervened.

“Derek’s right. We need to step back. Let me talk to someone before I have us all telling ghost stories.” Piper downed the last dregs of her coffee while Rossi left to brave the pounding rain outside. Emily stormed out quietly, refusing to make eye contact with the team. Piper and Spencer tramped downstairs to their desks.

“You really think this is a serial killer?”

“I don’t know, Spence. All I know is that if it is, there’s someone out there who’s gonna kill again. I don’t want to take that chance.”

^-^

Rossi pulled up in front of his church, the largest congregation in his area, and closed the door behind him before he took the marble steps two at a time, careful not to slip. He shoved open the large double doors to the church, walking across to catch a familiar priest cleaning the altar.

“Hey, stranger,” the priest greeted Dave.

“I know. It's been too long.”

“So maybe after we speak, you'll let me take your confession?”

“Gonna strong-arm me?” The priest laughed.

“You bet. So, how can I help you?”

“What do you know about exorcisms?” Jimmy raised an eyebrow as he sat down in the first pew to answer the question.

“Well, they're, uh- they're controversial. The Vatican issued a new exorcism rite in 1999, so nobody speaks out against it, but if pressed, not every priest believes in demonic possessions.”

“Do you?”

“Let me put it this way. You believe that evil exists.”

“I've seen it.”

“So, if children are born innocent, at what point does evil enter them?”

“How common are exorcisms?”

“Conservatively, I’d say 400 or 500 a year.”

“Has anyone died in one?”

“What's this about, Davey?”

“I'm looking into the deaths of 2 men. Both were troubled. Each recently had made the same pilgrimage to Galicia, Spain. Each died within the last 2 weeks.”

“And why do you suspect exorcism?”

“Well, it's just a theory. One of our agents knew one of the men. She was afraid there might be some foul play.”

“You agree?”

“Would you know if one took place here in DC?”

“If it's sanctioned, probably.”

“If not?”

“Well, then it's not a true exorcism.”

“Thanks, Jimmy.” As Rossi turned his back, the priest raised his arm, first to God, then to the Father and finally the Holy Spirit, praying for his friend’s soul.

As Rossi returned from his trip, Piper jumped up to retrieve him. “Garcia got a call, 38-year-old white male found dead in his bed by his fiancée,” she told him as they rushed up to Hotch’s cabin. “Patrick Cavanaugh was in Galicia, Spain at the same time as Thomas and Matthew.” Rossi opened the door to Hotch’s office as Piper finished. “Reid, Prentiss and Morgan already left to see the scene.” Piper returned to her desk, resuming her leftover paperwork.

^-^

Derek walked behind Emily and Spencer as they trudged through the brief respite from the rain up to the Cavanaugh household. They flashed their badges to the officer standing guard outside the house. “What can you tell us?”

“Uh, white male, been dead for hours. Medics think it was a brain aneurysm.”

“You mind if we take a look at the scene?”

“Knock yourselves out.” The three agents walked into the room and Spencer noticed the scratches under the bedposts.

“This is kind of starting to freak me out a little bit.”

“Let's figure out if we have a crime before we start freaking out.”

“Obviously we have a crime.”

“Prentiss, how does an unsub induce an aneurysm?”

“Uh, could be caused by stress,” Spencer intervened.

“Yeah, like if you were restrained on a bed while someone tried to banish the devil from their body.”

“All I’m saying is I think we should go easy,” Derek spoke as Mrs Cavanaugh entered the room.

“Can I help you?” Her voice was meek and yet reverberated around the room. Being the closest to her, Derek held out his badge. “FBI? What are you doing here?”

“We’re investigating a series of unexpected deaths,” Reid provided from the back of the room.

“I don’t understand.” Sidelining any empathy that she could have held for the recent widow, Emily started interrogating her.

“Was Patrick acting erratically recently?”

“He had a brain condition. He was getting headaches, wasn't acting like himself.”

“Were you aware of a trip he took recently to Galicia, Spain? Uh, there's a church there called Santiago de Compostela we think he may have visited.” Emily stepped closer to the young widow.

“My fiancé travelled a lot for work. I don't know everywhere he went.”

“With all due respect, ma'am, I don't think you're telling us the truth.”

“Excuse me?”

“Did you believe Patrick was possessed?”

“I'd like some privacy, please?”

“Was someone trying to rid him of demons? Is that how he died?”

“No.”

“You really believe he had a brain condition?” Derek stepped in between, urging Emily to stop and motioning for her to leave before apologising to the young lady for Emily’s behaviour. But apparently, Hotch had already heard about the incident as the three found him waiting in front of the elevators.

“What happened?”

“I think there may be a third victim,” Emily maintained as professionally as possible.

“Is that what you think?” Hotch turned to Derek who glanced at Emily quickly before inputting.

“I don't know.”

“Uh, we have ligature marks, the Spain connection, and scuff marks under the bed.” Emily attempted to salvage the case as it fell apart at the seams.

“Hotch, it's weird, definitely, but there's no way to physically connect dehydration, a heart attack, and an aneurism.” Hotch sighed and Derek asked him if everything was okay.

“We've had a complaint. JJ 's trying to smooth it over with the DC police, but we haven't been invited in on the case.” Hotch uncrossed his arms, face neutral as always and Spencer followed his boss into the bullpen. Derek made to follow too, stopped only by Emily’s voice.

“Hey, that's how you have my back?”

“Prentiss, I'm trying to protect you.” Derek held his hands up.

“I don't need protection,” she spat.

“Hotch just said he got a complaint, and he didn't come down on you. You realize that? You just dodged a bullet. We have to approach this just like we do any other case.”

“Meaning what?” She narrowed her eyes at him, daring him to continue.

“Grief can make us wanna believe there's a reason for things when there's not.”

“That woman couldn't even use Patrick's name. She could only say, "my fiancé," because she's convinced something else died in that room that night.” She pushed past him, deliberately digging her shoulder against him, as she walked into the bullpen. As she poured coffee, Spencer recounted the earlier events to Piper.

“Yikes. Is Em okay?”

“I don’t know. She’s convinced there’s an unsub.”

“You don’t think so.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Spencer said as he sat at his desk. “It’s out of my hands.”

“Yeah, I heard there was a complaint.” Piper unclipped her hair, scooping it into a ponytail as she watched Emily glare at Derek over her cup. “Also, Garcia found something.” Piper rolled her chair closer to Spencer, leaning in as she spoke. “Turns out there was a blog posting by Matthew to create a support group for people who felt betrayed by their faith.”

“That explains how they all met.”

“That’s what I said. But it gets better.” Piper slurped at her tea. “And by better, I mean worse. The week the 3 of them were in Spain, the services at Santiago de Compostela were cancelled when the priest there died of, and get this, a heart attack. And,” she emphasised. “If you listen to the conspiracy chatter, there is a strong belief he was killed to interrupt services during the height of the pilgrimage. Their best guess is some kind of gas, sarin or VX, something that wouldn't show up in an autopsy. But it could be anything that would induce stress, cause a heart attack.”

“Then we have a motive. And a potential MO, An eye for an eye.”

“That’s what I said.” Piper’s eyes widened. “But Hotch can’t authorise an investigation.” She leaned back in her chair.

“Wait, but why’d you say that so secretively? Everyone knows, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve just always wanted to do that.” Piper beamed, spinning her chair before skidding over to her own desk. After a few minutes, Emily walked over, shrugging off her coat and getting down to get some work done. Piper looked up to see an attractive man walk up to Emily’s desk and she embraced him quickly. She couldn’t quite make out their hushed conversation but saw Rossi approach them and the two agents left to ‘grab coffee’.

^-^

“You know, there are nicer places to take a girl to coffee.” Emily stood outside the ruins of a burnt down house and Rossi snorted.

“You ever watch The Exorcist?”

“Yeah. Piper hated it.” Rossi nodded.

“The real case started right here. The fire department actually burned down the house themselves. The authorities referred to the boy as Robbie Doe. He's still in the DC area today.”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“Whole lot of effort went into destroying the house of a kid who probably had onset schizophrenia or Tourette’s syndrome.”

“I'm not following you.”

“You're sure he was murdered. So, what's the story?” Emily sighed. “If you, uh, don't wanna explain, that's fine, but if you do, I'm all in.”

“Matthew knew the Bible inside and out, and he started to question everything.”

“Why?”

“We moved around a lot when I was a kid, 'cause of my mom's postings,” Emily said, pawing at the ground with her foot. “It was hard to get accepted, and when you're 15, that's all you want. You'll do almost anything.”

“You got pregnant,” Rossi inferred, and Emily nodded. “Was Matthew the—”

“No. I couldn’t tell my mom and I didn’t know what to do.” Emily’s voice cracked. “Matthew suggested I go see a priest. He said that if I had an abortion, I wasn't welcome in his congregation.”

“What’d you do?”

“Matthew found a doctor. He took me there. He stayed with me. That Sunday when we got back to Rome, he held my hand and walked me into the church. Father Gamino actually stopped his sermon, but Matthew told me to hold my head up, and we walked to the front pew.”

“What happened?”

“He and Matthew just stared at each other. It was like a battle of wills, and-- and then suddenly Father Gamino went back to his sermon. Matthew saved my life. He made me feel like i was worthy of... Love and friendship. But that's when his anger and questioning started. Then the drugs. His parents saw it all and assumed he was possessed by something evil.” Emily exhaled, looking at the overcast sky to avoid eye contact with Rossi. “It’s my fault…that Matthew’s life unravelled. Rossi watched her blink away tears before he continued.

“Garcia uncovered some information. It's possible Matthew and the others killed someone in Spain.”

“No. I don't believe that.”

“I'm just saying if we keep pushing, you have to be prepared for what we might discover.”

“I need Matthew to rest in peace. I owe him that.”

“Then let's go give a profile.” Rossi moved towards the SUV they rolled in.

“The-the police haven't invited us in.”

“The police aren't gonna do us any good on this one, anyway.”

^-^

Piper was perched on the podium, tightening her small ponytail over her dark cardigan as she watched the group of priests. Spencer stood in an adjacent corner, leaning his back against the wall as Rossi delivered the profile in front of their audience. “We are not here to examine your beliefs in demonology or exorcism, but we are operating on the theory that the person responsible for these deaths does believe. We believe the inciting incident was the death of Father Raul del Toro in Galicia, Spain, 4 months ago.”

“Th-there's an element who believes that the death was actually a murder.” Emily shoved her hands in her pockets.

“The man we’re looking for is probably a priest with a psychotic break,” Piper continued. “He may be under the delusion that he is working for God, would be obsessed with the event in Galicia.”

“He believes he's fighting evil and may very well have followed these men here to Washington,” Spencer finished Piper’s sentence. “We believe that one of the exorcisms took place over enough days for the victim to die of dehydration.”

“Uh, if I may,” David’s priest raised his hand, saying, “An exorcism is like a prize fight. It's completely draining, both physically and spiritually. Now, if this man truly performed 3 rituals within the last few weeks, he would need medical care.”

“Is there somewhere he would go to convalesce?”

“Um, anything less than a working hospital would be too dangerous.” Spencer met Piper’s eyes and she jumped off her perch, following him outside as he dialled Garcia.

“Garcia, it's Reid.”

“Speak, boy wonder.”

“I need you to run Catholic hospital records. Look for any admissions for exhaustion immediately following Patrick Cavanaugh's death. You got it?”

“You know I do.”

“Alright, now run the same search for the days immediately following the first 2 deaths.”

“Oh, I sense a cross-check in my future.”

“Do you have anything?”

“One hit- Father Paul Silvano. Currently at St. Agatha's hospital on 214.” Piper’s forehead unwrinkled and she sprinted down the halls of the church to Rossi, flinging the door open, announcing 3 magical words.

“We got him.”

^-^

“What do you mean he has diplomatic immunity?” Emily slammed a hand on Hotch’s desk.

“Exactly that. Emily, he’s protected by the Italian government. My hands are tied."

“Hotch, he killed three people.”

“There’s no proof.”

“He admitted he was there at each crime scene, that he performed an exorcism on him.” As the fight continued, Spencer gazed intently into the window from his desk.

“What do you think is happening?”

“Auntie Em and Dad are fighting again,” Piper answered as she scribbled the last word on her file, finally completing the week’s paperwork.

“I can see that. I mean, what do you think is gonna happen?”

“The regular. Hotch doesn’t listen to anyone except Rossi so hopefully he can sort this one out. Emily will storm out in 3… 2… 1…” Spencer watched her slam the door behind her as Rossi continued the argument with Hotch, sighing. JJ walked over, leaning her back on Emily’s desk.

“Can we deport him?”

“I doubt it,” Spencer sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“It's crazy. Diplomatic immunity wasn't intended to shield people from murder charges,” Piper complained as she stacked her finished paperwork.

“So Hotch bypasses the state department,” JJ suggested, “goes straight to the Italian Consulate.”

“And loses his career,” Spencer snorted. “The state department won't risk the potential embarrassment. They'll shut us all down.”

“Well, there's some realpolitik for you,” Piper puffed. “So, what do we do now?”

“Did you check his papers with ICE?” Spencer turned to JJ.

“Yeah. His diplomatic status runs till the end of the month.” Piper stood up, starting to pace.

“Okay, let’s go back to the profile. He's a believer.” Piper juggled a stress ball in her hands. “He deals in certainties. In his mind, he has a job to do. Which doesn't end until the end of the month.” Spencer stood up.

“There's another victim on his list.” As the realisation dawned on her, Piper jumped up onto Spencer’s desk before leaping over the partition, sprinting up to Hotch’s office. Spencer just blinked at where Piper had stood merely seconds ago. “That’s starting to get annoying.” Rossi then stormed out to catch Emily by the elevator and they went for another ‘drive.’

They drove to the Benton household where Mrs Benton recognised Emily perfectly, greeting her snidely. “We know Matthew died during an exorcism by Father Paul Silvano. He's performed 3 in the last few weeks. Each subject has died. We believe he's planning another one.”

“That's none of our business.”

“Matthew's gone. You've accepted that. At least let us warn the last family so they know what kind of choice they're facing.” Emily’s pleading met silence. “This isn't about me. This is about other families and the people they love.” Mrs Benton just sighed and walked back inside, leaving the door open for them to come in.

“Father Paul didn't kill Matthew.” Mr Benton was perched next to his wife on the arm of her chair.

“Why are you so willing to accept that? I- I'm just trying to find the truth about how your son died,” Emily pleaded with them from the opposite chair.

“Then listen to me. Father Paul never laid a hand on Matthew.”

‘How do you know that?”

“Because it was me.” He looked ashamed as he stared at his worn leather shoes. “I held him down, I sanctioned the exorcism.”

“I was there.”

“You stood there and watched Matthew die?”

“He wasn't the person you knew.”

“Because Father Paul said that?”

“Something horrible happened on that trip to Spain.”

“You believe that because Father Paul said it. You can't think for yourself?”

“Young lady, do not speak to me like that.”

“How could you allow him to perform a ritual over Matthew?”

“I loved my son.”

“Then you knew how Matthew was. You knew how paranoid he could be.”

“I was trying to save his life.” Emily stood up in frustration at Mr Benton.

“That priest must have done something. Matthew's heart wouldn't have just given out.”

“That thing killed Matthew! It was inside him for years. I know you know that's true.”

“No. Matthew was a sweet boy. He was just troubled.”

“He was never troubled until he met you,” Mrs Benton murmured loud enough for Emily to hear and she recoiled.

“Look, Father Paul explained that Matthew was a conduit. If you opened yourself up to him, you were putting yourself in danger of being taken over.”

“Was anyone with him in Spain or in DC?”

“No-one. He didn’t see anyone when he came back,” Matthew’s father explained.

“No, that's not true. I - I know for a fact he saw our friend John Cooley. His parents worked with my mother at the embassy in Rome. You called him to tell him Matthew had died.”

“I haven't spoken with John Cooley in over 20 years, not since you were kids in Italy.”

^-^

While Rossi went to smooth things over with Hotch, Emily went to John’s apartment, meeting Derek there. Derek flanked Emily as they stormed the apartment. Emily raised her gun, rushing to protect John as Derek dragged Father Paul away. Once outside, Emily freed John while Derek cuffed Paul. Carefully, Emily guided her old friend to the ambulance though his complaints of being fine. Before he left, he murmured something to Emily. “I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. In Italy.” Emily just smiled, rubbing his arm gently before pushing him gently to the ambulance. She rubbed her own arm as the ambulance doors closed and drove away. Piper stood next to Emily.

“You saved him.” Emily nodded. “If you want to crash over at my place, we can watch old movies together,” Piper offered as Hotch approached. She squeezed Emily’s shoulder gently before leaving them.

“If you want my gun and badge, I understand.”

“There’s no need. The Vatican intervened.” Morgan dragged Father Paul over to them. “There's a plane ticket in your name to Rome. Agent Morgan and I will drive you to the airport. Any of your belongings can be shipped to you.”

“You have no right to deport me.”

“The Italian government has rescinded your diplomatic status. They'll do with you as they see fit when you're back in their jurisdiction.” Hotch motioned for the SUV. But as they left, the father called over his shoulder.

“You’ve made the world a more dangerous place. May God’s love be with you.”

“And with you,” she spat back. Rossi, Piper and Spencer joined her and Derek

“I saw that guy up there. He was certain he was fighting against some kind of evil,” Derek murmured to the group as the snow glistened on his shoulders.

“We all have to be certain,” Rossi remarked as he watched the priest leave with Hotch.

“Rossi, don't tell me you believe in evil.”

“Don't tell me you do this job and you don't.”

“I believe there are evil acts, but those are choices, brain chemistry,” Derek explained. “What do you think, Pipes?”

“There’s no evil in the world. Every feeling, every emotion has its justification. For him, it was his beliefs. I think it’s easy for us to dismiss someone or something as evil.” Piper puffed; her breath smoky. Morgan nodded thoughtfully before Hotch called him. One by one, they all left to their own SUVs. Piper looked over to Emily, who stared thoughtfully into the snow, one tear rolling down her cheek. Piper draped an arm over her shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get you home.” Piper drove Emily carefully to her own apartment, letting her in gently. Emily couldn’t help smiling as Penelope held a hot bowl of soup.

“It’s chicken noodle.” Garcia beamed at Emily who took it, smiling softly at the soup. “Also, the movie choices are Sweet Home Alabama, Pretty Woman or Titanic.”

“I don’t know, I should—”

“How about just a quiet night in? Tell me you still made that lasagne.” Emily sat on Piper’s maroon couch, slurping at her chicken noodle soup as Piper and Penelope fought over how to cut lasagne.

“It’s not pie, Piper! You don’t cut it into triangles.”

“But it’s fun!” Emily giggled despite herself and Piper glanced over, smiling softly as she walked over, wrapping Emily in a throw when the doorbell rang. Piper opened the door for JJ who carried little Henry in one arm and a bottle of champagne in the other. Piper held Henry in her arms as JJ walked over to Penelope. The four girls sat on the floor, slurping soup, drinking champagne and eating lasagne. Emily smiled, finally feeling at home.

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cyn-00 · 4 years

Text

Moreid one shot, 5 - "spare you"

Season 6, episode 19 "With friends like these" (the one where Reid is having one of his headaches while they're delivering a profile, hence Morgan follows him to the bathroom to talk to him)

Back at it again with another unrequested long ass fic

Update like 5 months later: I basically re-wrote this. Well, parts of it; and I added other parts

Read it on AO3

-------------

Reid had been behaving weirdly for weeks now. Everyone on the team had noticed and asked, but he'd always given vague answers.

One would expect that only Morgan, aka his boyfriend, would know something more about it and, in fact, the others had tried to ask him too. Truth was, not even Morgan had it quite figured out. Which was concerning.

He'd tried to ask Reid what was going on several times: while they were working on cases, on the jet, in private, even at home, the few times in those past weeks that he had convinced him to come over, to try and make him spit it out. At a certain point, he just gave up. But seeing someone you love so much suffer and try to cope with something clearly bigger than them, isn't fun. Especially if you think that maybe you could do something about it, if only they let you.

The times he'd asked, Reid had told him that it was his migraine, which caused him insomnia and vice versa, in an endless vicious cycle. That could've been true: it happened to him from time to time. Especially after the drug problem he had dealt with a couple of years before; but Morgan didn't know much about that because they weren't "dating" at that time - and if Reid was one to keep things secret from him as a couple, imagine when they were just friends.

They were delivering the profile to the local pd agents, and Reid was clearly distracted. He didn't say a word during the whole thing, except when Hotch directly called him out to explain which was the unsub's "comfort zone".

Since they were all used to him intervening to give some statistics or make comparisons with other famous criminals, to the point where, sometimes, Hotch or Morgan had to shut him up because he was getting too excited; it was safe to say that such behavior wasn't normal for Spencer.

In that specific situation, though, it was understandable that he wasn't saying anything: first of all, the unsub was supposedly schizophrenic, and when an unsub showed signs of mental illness - let alone if it was the same his mom had - it was very triggering for Reid. But most of all, it was their first case after Emily's "death".

"If you find someone who fits this description, let the sheriff know. Thank you for your attention." Hotch concluded.

Reid was still sitting on the desk. The moment Morgan's eyes met his for a split second, he stood up and immediately strode toward the bathroom; like he had been "caught" and had to flee as far as his feet could take him.

Spencer's headache was killing him in that moment. He hoped not to look so clearly uncomfortable, but he knew Derek - and literally everyone else - had noticed. And he knew that time he'd have to tell him the truth. He was NOT enjoying the continuous lying at all, especially when it came to lying to Derek. His Derek. It wasn't fair to him.

He walked toward the bathroom as fast as possible so that the others wouldn't have the time to ask him what was going on. On the other hand though, to Morgan that must have clearly looked like Reid was unspokenly asking for him to follow, and that he was ready to finally talk - which he wasn't. He would NEVER be ready to talk about it.

Spencer got in the bathroom, but couldn't hear Derek's footsteps yet. Maybe Hotch had to tell him something? Maybe he was too busy on the case to worry about his stupid headache? Maybe he wasn't even going to follow him in the first place, because he was done with his bullshit? No, that surely wasn't possible. And anyway Reid didn't even know whether he was hoping for that to be true or not.

He closed the door, - noise made the headaches way worse - washed his face and started taking deep breaths, which was what he usually did to try and make the migraine better; obviously failing 9 times out of 10.

He finally heard someone open the door, hoping it wasn't any member of the team apart from Morgan or - even worse - some officer who would've thought he was crazy.

When Morgan entered the bathroom, he found Reid bending over the sink, leaning on his arms with his head down. He had a feeling he was gonna talk for real, this time, instead of using lame excuses or avoiding the topic completely.

Reid finally found the courage to look up at him, not directly, but through the mirror - though even just that was enough to make him nervous.

Morgan was now right beside him, with his arms crossed on his broad chest, like he was waiting for him to talk first. Reid sighed and finally turned around, leaning on the sink. But he couldn't bring himself to talk: he didn't even know where to start.

Derek lightly put his index under Spencer's chin and raised his face, to make him look into his eyes instead of facing the ground.

"I'm not here to judge you. Is that what you want me to say so you can finally speak? Like you don't know it already." Derek broke the silence.

Spencer couldn't find the right words to explain that he had been feeling like crap for the past 2 weeks.

"I've been feeling like shit." he finally murmured in resignation: that's just how it was.

Derek's eyebrows shot up. He wasn't expecting him to be so direct.

"Yeah, I noticed. Everyone has, to be fair."

Reid nodded and went back to look at his feet.

Morgan continued, softening his tone. "Listen, kid. This can't be a normal migraine, am I right? If it makes you feel so sick."

"That's what I thought." Spencer answered.

"...so did you go to a doctor?" Derek asked after a few seconds of silence, during which he would've expected him to continue with his explanation.

"I went to three different doctors, actually. And basically, they told me I have nothing."

Derek looked confused. His mind started to wrap around the idea that the migraines could be a symptom of something way more serious.

"Maybe..." Derek started. He wanted to say it, but wasn't sure if A) Spencer had already wondered about it and was gonna accuse him of thinking he's dumb, or B) on the contrary, saying it would heat him up because the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. Either way, he wasn't expecting him to react well, but he had to say SOMETHING, for Christ's sake.

"...maybe the headaches mean something else? " He decided to stay vague.

Reid stood up straight and faced him. That whole dancing around the problem was starting to annoy him.

"If you want to say that you think I'm showing signs of... of schizophrenia, just- just say it."

Derek wanted to answer with something that would calm him down, but Spencer interrupted him the second he opened his mouth.

"It's like I told Emily, I knew you would all treat me like a baby if I ever talked to any of you about this. Do you think I wouldn't have told you or- or anybody else, if the doctors had said that I'm having symptoms of mental illness?" Reid could feel his eyes filling up with tears the moment he mentioned Emily's name out loud.

He still couldn't believe he had talked to her about his stupid migraine while she was dealing with way more important stuff, and that maybe if he had been the one to ask her what was going on, instead of the other way around, she would still be alive.

Derek's expression changed from being comprehensive to being irritated as soon as he picked up that Spencer had talked about this to Emily before anyone else. Before him.

"So you told her. But didn't tell me. Even though I asked you a MILLION times." he said frowning, his voice deep.

Reid didn't answer. He realized he shouldn't have mentioned it. He couldn't bear with Morgan's look anymore, so he turned his back on him to face the mirror again, looking down at his distorted reflection on the steel tap.

"Alright look, I don't know why you told Emily before telling me that's- that's beside the point here, honestly. I don't blame you for it, I know she is-" Derek stopped for a second and gulped. "-was. I know she was your friend- OUR friend, I used to tell her about my stuff too, cause I trusted her with it, so I get it, alright?" he sighed heavily. "I blame you for not trusting ME, too. It's not like I didn't give you the right circumstances to tell me."

Derek paused and tried to calm down, lowering his voice. "but you and I, Spencer, we- we're not friends. We never were just friends. You're always THE FIRST ONE to know about my stuff and I'm the first to know about yours - or at least I used to be - because we get each other way before the others get us. And I did- I DID get you before anyone else even this time. You were just too damn blind to notice it."

"I DO trust you. Don't talk like you don't know that. It's not because of trust that I haven't told you yet." Spencer finally found the words to answer, without hesitation.

"Then what? What is it?? If it's because of the 'treating you like a baby' bullshit- don't even get me started. I don't care how you call it, but what that actually is, is worrying and CARING about yo-"

"I know." That's all Spencer managed to say, coldly, before letting the conversation fall into a long, tense silence.

Derek was waiting for him to say something - anything - with his arms folded on his chest, but his patience had a limit - EVEN when it came to Spencer. And it wasn't because he got tired of him - there was no such thing - but because it was too painful to see him like that.

"A'ight." He sighed frustratedly, dropping his arms down his sides as he turned on his heels. He just couldn't stand being there any longer.

He was about to walk away, but Spencer turned around and grabbed his arm to stop him.

"W-Wait. There is a reason why I didn't wanna tell you at all, to be honest, and I- I even hoped you'd let it go at some point..." Spencer found the courage to say, now looking straight into Derek's dark eyes. He let go of his arm and tucked his hair behind his ears, as if preparing to explain properly.

"One of the doctors said that these migraines could be psychosomatic. He didn't mention schizophrenia though." he confessed, getting to the point, pausing a second after to catch Derek's reaction. But his expression remained pretty much the same: Spencer wasn't sure whether that could be because he was someway expecting it; or he was simply trying to hide how startled he actually was at the news, afraid to discourage him from talking.

"It's hard enough for me to get the work done and...actually, to- to live, with these headaches" he paused again, this time in the attempt to stop the urge of crying, but his voice was already cracking. "I can't concentrate, even light bothers me, let alone noise, I can't- I get 20 hours of actual sleep a week if I'm lucky. I feel pain and- and exhaustion, all the time..."

Now he was crying. He quickly wiped away the tears with the back of his nervously trembling hand, and shook his head to compose himself. "When I'm with you I feel guilty because I- I can't actually enjoy it and I can see that that's affecting you and that's SO not fair to you Derek I-" he sniffled, stopping himself from continuing with that train of thought, afraid that if he went on to say how much Derek didn't deserve to go through all of that for him, to have to adjust in order to keep up with his garbage, how he didn't understand why he hadn't yet ran away in the arms of someone normal, someone just as amazing as he was because he shouldn't settle for anything less, someone who could lift from his chest some of his pain instead of adding to it- Spencer was afraid if he'd went on to say that, not only he would crumble on the floor at his very knees, which would've been quite the pathetic scene; but most of all Derek would've thought he was praising him just to distract him from how mad he was at Spencer - righteously, he thought. Derek wasn't mad at Spencer for feeling sick, by the way. He could never.

Spencer was somewhat ready to continue, getting back to the problem. "The times that you've convinced me to come over, lately, were few not because I didn't want- actually it's a bit easier for me to sleep when I'm with you, in general, at least more than I manage alone- it's- it was just because I can imagine that having to babysit me is not how you- we, that's not... how we wish to spend time together. So what I'm saying is that the reason why I didn't wanna tell you is because if the doctor is right, it means I'm gonna have to go through therapy to fix this and it's gonna take a while...maybe it's never even gonna go away I- I'm not sure, honestly. There's no way of knowing. And I don't wanna force you to be a part of this. Even just for these few weeks I can see I've been nothing but a burden to you- to everyone, to be fair, and..." he gulped and tried to slow down the pace of his talk. "and I want to be able to spare from this at least you."

They stared into each other's eyes for a while. Derek understood what Spencer meant to say with all of that, he just needed a minute to process a proper answer - or at least one that would make some kind of sense.

"So uhm, let me- let me get this straight" he said shaking his head, his voice hoarse, his eyes squeezed shut trying to soothe the itching of tears poking at his lids. "Your best solution would be to... to break up ?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

Spencer nodded and returned to face the ground, ashamed of what he was implying and not really knowing what he was hoping for him to decide.

Derek couldn't find the right words to say next. So he walked toward the door.

Spencer thought that that was it. That he was about to be abandoned yet once more - and for the first time he wanted to punch himself in the guts at the awareness that it was no one else's but his own fault; surely not Derek's. He thought the best thing that had God-willingly fallen into his arms in years was about to walk away through that door.

And, despite knowing there was no such thing, Spencer could swear he felt his heart physically break. The amount of tears heaping up before his pupils blinded him and made his eyes literally burn; his jaw was clenched so tight in the attempt to put a stop to the desperate sobs about to escape that his teeth seemed to be cracking, just before shattering altogether.

But he didn't really have the right to stop him, since he basically asked for it and since he knew sticking with him through that would be a big responsibility and an even bigger burden, other than a distraction.

That's why he wanted to break up with him first. He wanted to rip off the band-aid. At least he would've spared them both the mess that would've happened if Derek had stayed with him for a while longer and then dumped him at a certain point, out of having enough, when Spencer would've already convinced himself that he could trust him to stick around till the "end". Whatever that meant.

Unexpectedly, when Derek got to the door, he did not open it and leave. He locked it, instead. He didn't really care if anyone got in anyway, but the situation was already uncomfortable enough.

He went back to Spencer and took him in his arms, with one hand on the back of his head, tied in his curls. And he kissed him.

Spencer was definitely not expecting that. His heart started beating again, so loud he could feel it in his ears. His eyes shut while his mouth was moving almost on itself, like it got carried away by his feelings. As for his arms, though, at first he hadn't figured out what to do with them yet, leaving them hanging idle along his sides.

Then he stopped for a second to catch his breath, and when their mouths met again, making the kiss more intense and wet; whether that be from the tears coating Spencer's face entirely or the drool he didn't even have the strength to contain - just then, his arms found their way, wrapping Derek as tightly as he possibly could.

Just when it was starting to get too needy and Derek's mind was about to go places it shouldn't have - considering the context and the importance of the matter - Spencer placed his hand on Derek's jaw to pull away, abruptly.

"W-wait" he whispered breathily. "Did you mean for this to be our- our last kiss?" he blurted out worriedly, the bad thoughts doubling back to hit him in the stomach all at once. "Is this a goodbye?"

Derek didn't answer immediately - instead, he drew him closer into his arms and hugged him tight, burying his face into his soft hair, keeping his eyes closed.

The lack of response left Reid even more confused. He slightly furrowed his brows but let himself melt into the comfort of Morgan's broad and warm body, returning the hug a few seconds later.

He could feel the rhythm of Derek's breath softly blowing into his ear, and the beat of his heart against his chest. And Spencer knew that to feel a person's heart through a hug it would have to be really pounding. Like, he could give you the numbers.

"I can't even imagine there being a last kiss with you, Spencer. I love you." Derek finally murmured into his ear, pausing to sniffle. "So much. I love you so much, I need you to understand that."

The only reason why Spencer didn't say it back, was because the smile printed on his face was too wide to speak; he didn't even know he could smile that big. And Derek felt such smile against his neck, so how could the lack of answer bother him?

Derek opened his eyes and pulled away to look at him, shifting his hands to cup his face. Spencer placed his hands around his wrists, holding onto them like he wanted to secure the grip.

He leaned closer and laid a gentle kiss on one of his boyfriend's eyelids. It was an affectionate and pure gesture in itself, but he didn't do it randomly: Spencer's mom used to kiss him goodnight like that when he was little, before tucking him in the blankets. In that moment, Spencer probably wished Derek had long forgotten about that thing, thinking it sounded childish and embarrassing. Derek didn't find it either of those things.

"Can't believe a smartass like you could think I'd just leave." Derek said. Spencer snorted and nodded: he realized just in that moment that he had no excuse for even CONSIDERING that, even if before it seemed to him like the only way out.

Morgan let go of him. "C'mon pretty boy. Let's get back to work."

He walked toward the door first: if they had got out together, maybe someone would've suspected something - what that "something" was, he still had to figure out. They got lucky enough that no one had tried to get in during all that.

He unlocked the door but waited a second to get out.

"Thank you, by the way."

Reid frowned.

"For what exactly? Doubting about you and making you angry?" he smiled sheepishly; his eyes still flushed and his voice wavering. "Also, my headache has completely gone away so I'm the one who should be thankful".

"No, no." Derek shook his head, smiling back at him in that way, the way that made everyone always melt on the ground. "Thank you for telling me, I mean. Even if it took a while."

Silence.

"I know it's hard for you, kid." he added in a gentle tone.

He got out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

#criminal minds #moreid #shematthew #criminal minds season 6 #criminal minds 6x19 #spencer reid x derek morgan #spencer reid #dr reid #derek morgan #bau #behavioral analysis unit #m/m #moreid fanfic #moreid one shot #sperek #cm tag #moreid one shot 5 #cm #moreid angst

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a-student-out-of-time · 4 years

Text

“Good afternoon, everyone. I’m sure many of you remember me, and for those who are new here, I’m Gekkougahara Miaya, the one to whom they gave the title of ‘Ultimate Therapist.’”

“Looking back, it seems a little silly, doesn’t it? Giving that role to a woman who uses a text-to-speech device to communicate. It’s not that I can’t speak, of course. I’m just far better at articulating my words through text than I am through speaking, and my job requires listening as much as it does speaking, perhaps even more so.”

“This is my last year at Hope’s Peak Academy, and I’ve done a great deal of thinking and reflecting, seeing how much things have changed. To say it’s been a tumultuous time would be the grandest of understatements. It’s been home to...some of the highest highs and lowest lows of my life.”

“When I was a first-year, I was so nervous about actually dealing with patients. I was just a girl who enjoyed studying psychology, then I received a letter in the mail asking me if I’d like to attend the most prestigious academy in the world. I knew that meant starting my planned career early, but I worried if I could really help people. I was a high-school student being asked to jump into work as an actual therapist.”

“And then, I met the other students of Class 75. I met some of the kindest, friendliest people I’ve ever known. They were all so excited to begin their work, I felt some of that determination rub off on me. I felt as though, maybe, I’d been judging myself prematurely. That maybe I was more capable than I’d given myself credit.”

“But in my second year, as I’m sure you’re all aware, I was in an accident that left me paralyzed from the waist down. An accident that...also lead to a close friend of mine dropping out of school. A friend I haven’t seen or spoken to since. That remains one of the darkest days in my life, and I hope it remains that way going forward.”

*She takes a breath before continuing*

“During my stay in the hospital afterward that I really started to read through the Hope‘s Peak Forums, and I got to read the...criticisms of me that had been floating around for some time. Discussions about whether I was qualified to act as a therapist if I can’t talk, and especially now that I’d been confined to this wheelchair.”

“And it would be easy to just brush those aside, but I didn’t. I also used that time to really think about what I wanted to do from there. Whether those criticisms were justified, and if I’d failed at what I’d set out to do. And if I had, what could I do differently? What would be the best decision for me and for my patients?”

“I briefly contemplated also dropping out of the Academy, but then I really started to think. I wondered how I could channel what I’d experienced into helping my patients. I started speaking with some of my past patients and with friends through email, and I learned a lot.”

*She brings her hands together*

"There’s this recurring idea in much of our media that we should praise disadvantaged people for their all of accomplishments. That there’s all these ‘inspiring’ stories about, for example, people getting out of their wheelchairs and walking down the aisle, even if it’s painful. It’s what Stella Young has called- if you’ll excuse my use of the term- ‘Inspiration Porn.’”

“I won’t lie, my condition comes with a lot of pain. Every day of the last year, I’ve dealt with chronic pain and difficulty breathing. I’ve had to figure out how I was going to live like this from now on, and it’s been pretty scary.”

“But you know what’s scarier? The idea that this chair is going to define me for the rest of my life. That my role now isn’t as a therapist, but as just an object of inspiration. My goal is to help people, don’t get me wrong, but I aim to do that as an actual hands-on worker.”

“The reason I bring this up is because I’m fairly sure that, after my graduation, someone is going to make a captioned photo of me meant to be inspirational. That’s the last thing I want. I don’t want to be pitied for my condition, and I don’t want to be praised for overcoming the restrictions that have now been put on my life.”

“It’s part of this ongoing idea that to be disabled is an inherently bad thing. That your life is not a life worth living, and that the only role you have now is to be an inspiration for able-bodied people. That using a wheelchair or prosthetic limbs is a shameful hindrance, and that you should call someone outstanding for being able to get out of bed in the morning.”

“And that ties back into the ideas about mental illness as well. The depictions of them as violent serial killers and criminal masterminds, or romanticizing conditions like depression and schizophrenia, causes of real psychological pain, as sources of artistic inspiration or creativity. The fact is, they’re not.”

“There’s also this over-emphasis on letting these qualities be the defining features of people, rather than just small components of who they are. People live utterly normal lives with them every single day, doing what they enjoy even if they struggle with physical or psychological conditions.”

“For example, hello, my name‘s Gekkougahara Miaya. I’m 18 years old, I grew up in Akihabara, and I spent most of my childhood watching magical girl anime and probably thinking too hard about how weird Freudian Psychoanalysis really is.”

*The crowd laughs*

“I know, right? It’s okay, you can all laugh.”

“I don’t blame anyone who’s held these beliefs or who were trying their best to actually be positive. I’m certain your hearts were in the right place if you’ve ever reblogged images like those. The problem is that, regardless of intent, it applies this ‘otherness’ to disabled people, that they’re inherently disconnected from the rest of us and only exist for our benefit.”

“Would I be making this kind of speech if I hadn’t been in that accident last year? In all honesty, I probably would be. Because my goal is not to be an inspiration. It’s to knock down that pedestal we’re often placed upon and to be down there with the rest of you.”

“If there‘s one thing I’d want to ‘inspire,’ it’s a shift in society’s attitudes toward disability. Where achieving normal things is seen as normal, and achieving great things is seen as great. Where the expectations on us are the same as anyone else’s.”

“As for my achievements, as of this month, I’ve helped over 355 patients since I came to Hope’s Peak Academy. I’ve studied different treatment methods, been granted opportunities to work with some of the most amazing people I’ve ever met, and I’ve been able to use what I love to help others. And this was a path I was on even when I could walk.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little more praiseworthy than telling me I did a good job getting out of bed this morning?”

“What I want is to break down that barrier between abled and disabled, and you can start very easily. Talk with people, get to know them, educate yourself, and don’t be afraid to ask questions. Above all, please listen to what they have to say too.”

“Thank you all for indulging me.”

#danganronpa #dr3 #danganronpa 3 #miaya gekkougahara #a student out of time #DR #practical exams arc

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