Title: Now I Know
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: Gen, pre-relationship (Hotch/Spencer)
Length: ~1000 words
Content notes: Dark thoughts, feelings of inadequate
Author notes: Written for the history challenge on fan_flashworks. Also fills the slot flu/cold in my 10_hurt_comfort table.
Summary: A history of various flus Spencer suffers while working on cases.



Spencer remembers several times from his childhood, when he was so sick with the flu he thought he would die. Looks like today is going to be one of those days, again. His head is throbbing, his throat feels sore, he’s shivering so badly Spencer thinks it’s a wonder no one has noticed it yet. Must be the fever, Spencer thinks, reaching 104 or something like that. No time for being sick, not now, when there are lives at stake.

And so Spencer keeps on going, despite the fact he’d rather be at home, laying on his bed and feeling miserable about himself and his frail and useless body.

~ ~ ~

Cracking the case takes longer than he would like in his current condition. His thought patterns are all over the place, and it’s beginning to show. The over-the-counter-medicines aren’t doing a thing to help him feel better, and for a moment Spencer thinks “Oh God, it’s not the flu after all. What if it’s something more serious, like the swine flu?” But the moment passes when Garcia finds the final piece of information that leads them to the killer at last.

Once the case is closed, Spencer collapses to his bed and sleeps for two days straight.

~ ~ ~

Another month, another case. And yet another flu Spencer must tackle. Rationally thinking, Spencer knows perfectly well why he’s riddled with the sickness again: low immune system, not enough sleep, un-healthy nutrition and constant stress. Anyone would be sick on and off again with circumstances like that.

However, the more darker side of his mind, the one he can’t shut off even if he wanted to, keeps telling him that he’s so sick all the time because he’s nothing. Just a poor boy, whose daddy walked away and whose mother is all locked up in the loony house. He deserves this dreadful feeling, he needs to be punished because he’s not good enough for anyone.

It’s ironic, Spencer thinks, that he was gifted with such a brilliant and sharp mind, only to have it stored in a body like his.

~ ~ ~

Higher, higher off the ground. Pulsing beat, too fast, too fast. Why did he come here? He doesn’t remember.

I can’t get enough, I can’t stay on the ground. I need to fly, fly away, where I won’t bother anyone.

Voices, urgent, shouting. What did I do wrong this time? Why are they mad at me? I’m sorry, I know it’s my fault. Please don’t leave me.

Does anybody hear me?

~ ~ ~

Spencer wakes up, slowly, oh so slowly. It feels like rising from deep underwater, as if all the outside world had been muffled. Where is he?

The walls are white, he’s wearing a gown and the bed he’s in is a standard hospital-issued bed. No handcuffs, though, and no bars in the window, so it’s safe to assume he’s not in a mental institute. Something must have gone wrong, though, for he wouldn’t be here for no other reason.

“You gave us quite a scare.”

Hotch. The last person Spencer wants to see, to talk with. He doesn’t want the older man to see him like this, weak as a newborn kitten, useless. He wants hide in the darkest corner and lick his wounds alone.

The silence around them is almost suffocating. Neither speaks, but both are all too aware of the other’s presence in the room. Finally, the silence is pierced when J.J pops in, telling Hotch that they have a new lead and they must go, now.

Hotch leaves, reluctantly. The set of his shoulders and the tightening in his jaw tell Spencer that he’s not out of the hook yet. The next time he sees Hotch he will be prepared.

~ ~ ~

The next time Hotch sees Spencer is three days later when the case is already closed. He searches for signs, of anything out of ordinary, but he sees nothing apart from general tiredness and weakness caused by de-hydration. Everything seems to be in order.

When the questioning doesn’t start, Spencer is happy. He still knows how to hide from the profilers that are his team (his only family, the little sound inside his head whispers but Spencer ignores it as always).

~ ~ ~

By now Spencer is used to the constant flu. It’s his trusted companion, his anchor in the insane world where nothing and everything makes sense to his non-stopping mind. As long as he can feel the shivers caused by the fever in his body, he knows he’s still sane. When the shivers stop, his mind will be gone.

It’s as if he could see the ever-changing patterns the world is built from, lurking somewhere in his peripheral vision. So beautiful, so mesmerizing.

Spencer wonders if Hotch can see them, too.

~ ~ ~

It turns out Hotch can’t see them, not in the way Spencer can. Hotch can see behind the mask Spencer is hiding, and for some reason he’s not appalled of what he sees. Spencer tries to explain that he’s useless, useless little boy that nobody wants to love. Everybody leaves him when they learn the truth about him, but Hotch insists that’s not the case.

“We are concerned about you and your health. Let us take care of you while you heal.”

Despite Spencer’s meek protestations (oh why, oh why his body has to be so weak, when his mind could move mountains!) Hotch tucks him into bed, covering Spencer with the warm quilt. Spencer tries to fight the sleep, for the serial killer is still out there somewhere, but his attempts are futile and his eyes are closing slowly. Hotch’s presence in the room is almost comforting, and Spencer’s final thought before sleep takes him over is “Now I know what it feels like when you have somebody to watch over you.”

Spencer sleeps soundly and without nightmares or hurtful thoughts throughout the night. In the morning when he wakes up, Hotch is still there.