“–no, please, wake up, Jack–”
His voice cracks all over, the pitch inconsistent with splintering hysteria. All the years of training couldn’t have prepared Reid for this. He’s come across atrocity after atrocity after atrocity–…But he’s at a loss. There’s so much blood. Reid tries to tighten the makeshift cloth bands around the boy’s arms to cut of circulation in that area. But the blood continues to flow. Reid tries to make eye contact with the boy, but Jack can hardly keep his eyes even open to half mast. He’s already called for an ambulance, but the wait is excruciating. It’s almost impossible to see anything that isn’t painted in red. The water from the bath tub continues to flow over. It hasn’t occurred to Reid that he should turn off the water. He can’t think at all.
“Jack. Jack, buddy. Stay with me. Jack! JACK! STAY WITH ME, JACK–
Paralysis strikes his body. He recognizes that deep baritone anywhere. The water keeps running. Red water raises off the bathroom floor. Reid sees his shoes first. Black dress shoes. Simple. Professional. Sophisticated. Slowly, his gaze drifts upwards. Dark charcoal slacks. White dress shirt. Black suit jacket. Strong jawline. And now, the eyes. They’ve almost always looked a melted amber when directed at Spencer. But right now, his eyes are a dark, dark piercing glacier black.
Finally, Reid gets his voice to work. “Hotch.”
“I trusted you with my son, Spencer.”
The red water is up to Reid’s elbows now. Frantically, he tries to scoop Jack up in his arms, so the unconscious boy won’t drown in his own blood. On shaky legs, he stands up. The water is at his waist now. He tries to fight back the tears by blinking hard.
“First I lost my wife. Now, you’re going to be the reason I lose my son too?”
“No, Aaron, I– I’m sorry. I’m so sorry–”
The red water is at his shoulders now. He can only keep Jack’s face above the surface.
““I’ll never forgive you.”
The water goes over and there’s no way to breathe.
He doesn’t need to add, ‘Be honest. Be truthful. Don’t lie. Please don’t fucking lie.’ There’s already enough established respect between the two men. And with respect also comes trust. As Jack’s legal guardian, Reid wouldn’t allow just anyone to be responsible for the boy’s treatment. There’s been a bit of talk about Dr. Hannibal Lecter among the FBI. Always in good favor. And almost always in relation to Agent Will Graham. But Reid knew about Dr. Lecter before all that. It was during a few chess matches with Gideon that Reid’s mentor would speak of Dr. Lecter.
“Sharp,” Gideon would say.
“He’s dangerously sharp.”
Reid never quite knew what to make of that statement. He also never got a chance to ask when Gideon would Checkmate him right after.
He feels like that’s what his life has been– Checkmates played against him not by his enemies, but by the people he trusts. Not as in betrayal. But as in circumstances out of everyone’s control that took those people away from him: his mother, Gideon, Prentiss (at one point but then she came back), Hotchner, a number of troubled minds he couldn’t save…And then Jack. Not just anyone could be resilient as that boy. He was there during his mother’s murder as a kid. Then later went through the Hells of sexual trafficking. And most recently, suffered the near loss of his father. No matter how strong a human mind may be, there’s only so much trauma one can take. Reid is a profiler. How the Hell did he not see Jack’s suicide attempt coming?
But then– Jack is the son of a profiler. A damned good one too. Not only does Jack have strong knowledge of profiling, but he knows how FBI agents think. It’s not that hard to figure out that Jack would’ve modified his behavior and actions for the sole sake of not ringing any alarms in Reid or the rest of the BAU team. Not out of distrust. But to not risk any interference with his plan to end his life.
Jack won’t talk to Reid anymore. Jack doesn’t really talk much at all to anyone– except Dr. Lecter.
They’re in the man’s office. Reid wonders how many times Gideon has been here before. It’s definitely the kind of environment the passed FBI agent would’ve appreciated. Reid stands by some books, his eyes skimming over the titles. He pauses as he pulls off his glasses to rub at his tired eyes. Dark circles rest under them. He hasn’t been sleeping. Not when sleep is almost a guarantee for another twisted nightmare of the night he discovered Jack in the bathroom. Sometimes, it’s just the two of them. Other times, there are guest stars like Aaron, members of the BAU, Hayley, even his own mother. All of them speaking of how disappointed, how angry they are with him. Jack is his responsibility. But for a young man who’s accomplished a Hell lot more than anyone his age– Reid cannot figure out for the life of him how to be a…parent.
“What can I do to help him?”
Jack had been sent to Hannibal after a recent suicide attempt. It concerned those who cared about him that he wouldn’t speak, but clearly was so distraught that he felt it necessary to end his own life. It wasn’t really a complicated matter, depressed teenagers didn’t really hold Hannibal’s interest --- they were a dime a dozen. The reason that this particular depressed teenager did interest Hannibal primarily had to do with his life situation. One’s mother having been murdered was enough to do psychological damage to anyone --- enough to be interesting. Secondly, Jack was interesting all on his own. He was brilliant in a way that Hannibal hadn’t initially expected, and he wanted to see how far he could push him before he fell back over the edge.
Before him now, in the chair across the room from him, sat Jack’s legal guardian --- also not his father. Spencer Reid. Maroon eyes observed every detail of the man’s expression, taking note of the strained undertone in his voice and the glint of pain behind his eyes. Delicious. It almost made Hannibal want to smile, except that it would be highly rude given the atmosphere. Either way, if you looked closely enough, you would be able to pick up on the smile in the psychiatrist’s eyes and the predatory mannerisms in his body language. Looking at the man’s shoes for a short moment as he crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap, Hannibal coughed to clear his throat before speaking.
‘ He’s making progress, albeit rather slowly. ‘
Hannibal raked his tongue across his lower lip, pausing as though he were trying to find the proper way to word what he wanted to say. It was an intricate dance between the two men. Both knew that Hannibal was not at liberty to discuss very much of what Jack shared with Hannibal in secrecy unless it was life threatening to either Jack or those around him. Reid knew this as well, and had already been reminded of it, but it was hard to swallow, which was not surprising. He cared about the young man and truly did have his best interest in mind, which made the whole thing so much more ironic.
‘ Jack is a deeply unhappy young man. Sadness has
hollowed out his bones and made its home there, and
I don’t think there will be any changing that in the
immediate future. The only thing you can do for him
is to simply be there. I’m sure he will come around to
you eventually but I’m sure he feels a great deal of
guilt right now. ‘
Words rolled off of Hannibal’s tongue like a calming stream of water running over smooth stones. One of his thumbs caressed the other as he did not look away from Reid’s face. Truthfully, Hannibal did pity the man, and even the boy, but not anywhere near as much as he had to pretend to. Hannibal saw a striking amount of similarities between Jack and Reid, as well --- and then between both of them and Will Graham. Neither of them were Hannibal’s perfect prized Empath, but they were valuable to him in their own ways. Hannibal probably wouldn’t kill them, at least not yet.
Making note of the dark circles under Reid’s eyes, and every bit of unease and nervousness he was getting from the younger man’s body language, Hannibal tilted his head and feigned a look of concern. Softened maroon eyes looked deep into Reid’s as Hannibal leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees.
‘ How are you, Spencer? Have you been sleeping
alright? ‘
He knows the answer to the question --- it’s obvious in Reid’s every movement. The use of Reid’s first name to address him instead of his last name was not without reason. It was in an attempt to sort of coo the man, to bring his guard down. Hannibal knew he was probably ravished by vivid nightmares every time he closed his eyes. It made him wonder if the sleep deprivation and anxiety had caused any hallucinations yet. When he spoke again, his voice was just as gentle and comforting as before.
‘ It’s hard to help someone else when you need help
yourself, you know. ‘
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