(no subject)
Verse: Master!Hotch/Convict!Reid
Beta: A huge thank you to cmali for beta-ing. All mistakes are mine.
Ratings: Each chapter is rated
X-posted at criminalxminds and cm_hotch_reid
Home
FRT
Hotch led the way to the front door. Opening it up, he let Spencer in and noted that his eyes darted around taking everything in without raising his head. Closing the door, he once again thought how he could have let Directer Strauss pull this on him.
"Please, follow me," Hotch told the other man and walked inside the apartment after throwing his jacket over the back of the couch. He pointed out the rooms as he led him to the guestroom at the end of the hallway; technically, it was now Spencer´s room.
"This is your room," he said as he walked in and quickly scanned the room--the made up Queen-sized bed with bedside tables on each side, a small desk and a chair up against the opposite wall. It was bare, but hopefully with time, Spence would put his mark on it.
Spencer raised his head a bit before lowering it again which was the only indicator of surprise Hotch got. "Thank you, Sir," the young man whispered.
Hotch nodded quickly before walking back to the living room and found the key he´d been given as he signed the papers earlier in the day in the inside pocket of his jacket. He turned around and managed to hold his composure as he was startled by Spencer standing behind him. Looking down, he realized the carpet must have muted the bare feet following him. He needed to take the man shopping. Soon. The extra set, besides the one Spencer was wearing, of a white T and blue shorts wouldn´t do for long. At least he´d remember to do some basic things like buy a collar and call an old friend of his father’s who was a doctor.
Raising his hand, he saw Spencer stiffen, like he´d done in the car a few hours ago.
"Can you turn around, please. I´m going to take off your collar," Hotch said softly and opened his hand to show the young man the object in his palm. Spencer swiftly turned around and kneeled in front of him, like obeying an order (which he was basically, Hotch thought dryly) instead of a request.
"Stand up, please. I can´t reach it when you are kneeling." The man jumped to his feet, eager to please his new Master and Hotch swallowed the foul bile threatening to come up.
The lock was stiff, and Hotch had to use a bit of force to get it open as he heard the young man draw in ragged breaths. He pushed the convicts fear out of his mind, concentraiting on the task at hand. Finally, it snapped open. Hotch removed the metal thing, holding back the grunt of empathy. Underneath was the red scar where the locator had been inserted under the skin but that wasn´t what had the Agent worried. The whole skin under the collar was red, in a few places the collar had rubbed skin off so the flesh stood bare. Other places where obviously scarred from open wounds that had healed after a long time of being rubbed open over and over again.
"Spencer?" Hotch forced himself to keep his voice low.
"Yes, Sir," the convict spoke fast as he turned around to face him. His neck didn´t look any better on the front.
"How long have you had that collar around you neck?"
"Five years, one month, and six days, Sir." Spencer spoke to the floor.
"And no one took it of this whole time?"
"No, Sir."
Hotch drew in a long breath to calm his anger. He watched crime scenes photos every day, and saw mutilated bodies at least once a week. It made him wonder if the victims were better or worse off dead if any of them had had a collar around their neck for five years.
"Alright." Hotch said changing his line of thought. "Why don´t you go and take a shower while I start dinner. The towels are in the cabinet in the bathroom; just put everything in the hamper."
"Yes, Sir," Spencer said as he walked out of the living room.
Hotch started a light dinner of soup and sandwiches. He was too lost in his thoughts about his new situation and Spencer that he missed the sound of the bathroom door opening and Spencer making his way out to the living room.
It wasn´t until he closed the refridgerator that he felt the precense of someone else. He swiftly turned around, his hand flying to where his Glock usually rested and found it empty. Spencer knelt naked behind the couch in the small space next to the sofa table. His head hung low as he was trying to fold himself together, but his palm rested on the floor on each side. Hotch stared. God, he´s thin was the first thought that came to mind as he watched the pile of skin and bones kneeling behind his couch. Then he wondered why the young man wasn´t dressed and why he hadn´t come into the kitchen until he realized he hadn´t given any orders for that.
Hurrying into his own bedroom he found an old pair of sweats and a Tee. Hotch handed the clothing to the young man and asked him to get dressed. When he came to the kitchen, dinner was ready. With the food on the table, he called out to Spencer that dinner was ready.
The young man came inside and kneeled next to the table. "Please sit in the chair," Hotch said and took a large bite out of his thick sandwich as the convict took his seat.
Hotch ate; Spencer stared down at the food. Hotch gave him a few minutes, but when he didn´t move, he clenched his jaws. "Eat," he said abruptly, more harshly then he planned as the young man was startled. Spencer gave him a quick glance from underneath his long locks, hesitantly picked up the spoon and ate a spoon full. When it seemed clear to him that Hotch wasn´t going to stop him, he picked up the pace, finishing before Hotch.
Quietly, Hotch picked up Spencer´s bowl and put the rest of the soup in it and set it in front of the convict. Again, Hotchner had to tell him to eat, although he did it more softly this time. Hotch slowed down his eating, finishing right behind Spencer´s second bowl.
As soon as Hotch set his spoon down, Spencer grabbed the bowls and the plates and moved them to the sink. Hotch thought about stopping him, but realized that Spencer would have to contribute something to the co-living situation.
"Spencer," Hotch started carefully, "there is an old friend of my father’s coming over tonight. He´s a doctor, and I want him to look you over, give you a quick physical. Would that be alright?"
"Whatever you wish, Sir," Spencer replied and used the kitchen towel to dry off the few items.
Hotch drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. One step at the time; one step at the time.
***
Ducky
Follows immediately after Home
FRT
A/N: For the oddest reason Ducky (NCIS) found his way into my fic and after some thought I was positively sure that Ducky could have known Hotch´s (step?)father so I ran with it.
"Hello, my young fellow," the old short man with rounded glasses said as his master opened the door. Spencer hunched lower in the couch as the man entered the apartment, he had a bad feeling about what was coming and feared it.
The evening had been quiet after dinner. His master had shown Spencer his poor library and DVD-collection, and then left him alone. Spencer, unsure what his new master wanted him to do, had gone and kneeled behind the couch only to be asked to sit on it. So, he´d spent the last couple of hours fidgeting on the couch, risking a glance over his shoulder every now and then at his master who sat at the kitchen table with pictures and papers spread all around him.
"It´s been far too long, my friend," the old man continued and shook his master´s hand tightly.
"Ducky, good to see you," his Master greeted the doctor with a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder.
"Yes, my young fellow," the doctor continued after the small embrace, "I must say that you have inherited you father’s poor manners, only calling for personal reasons, not that I´m innocent of the same crime."
His Master chuckled, and, with a small hand gesture, offered him inside the apartment.
"And this must be...?" The older man dropped the sentence off as he stepped around Aaron and headed toward Spencer. Spencer couldn´t help but flinch and lean away at the abrupt way the man approached him.
The doctor stopped short when he noticed the reaction. Slowly turning his head, the doctor looked at his Master. "My, oh, my," he said quietly.
"This is Dr. Spencer Reid," his Master informed the doctor and nodded at the old man.
Spencer watched the doctor´s hand slowly being extended toward him. He glanced over at his Master to see what he wanted him to do and hesitantly accepted the hand when his Master nodded.
"My name is Dr. Mallard, but everyone calls me Ducky," the old man said as they shook hands.
"Ducky, can I offer you something to drink?" The dark-haired man asked to lighten the mood.
"Sure, I´ll take a nightcap, but why don´t we get the dreadful part over first, hmmm?"
"Alright. How about Spencer´s room?" Spencer tensed, his heart started thudding. This was it.
"That would be perfect," the older man said. "Come on, young man, lets get you looked at." Carefully, Spencer followed the two men into the room his Master had said was his. Ducky set his bag on the table and opened it, pulling out various objects he would be needing.
His Master stopped him in the doorway. "Do you want me to stay with you or wait outside?" He asked quietly.
"Whatever you wish, Sir," was the only reply that Spencer could give. What he wanted didn´t matter.
Turning toward the older man, his Master nodded and set his hand on the doorknob. "I´ll be right outside, just call if you need something." And with that, he closed the door leaving Spencer alone with the stranger.
"So, young man, lets start with something simple. How about taking off your shirt and sit on the bed?"
Spencer shed his shirt, carefully setting it on the bed as he sat on the brim. Keeping his head down, he managed to glance at the doctor as he walked closer and set the stethescope in his ears. "I´m only going to listen to your heart and lungs," Ducky told him. He couldn´t help but tense.
As the old man bent a bit to set the the round object on the man´s chest he noticed the red bruise around the neck. "Good grief," he exclaimed and Spencer was startled at the sudden outburst. Without thinking, he moved across the bed and curled into himself on the other side.
The convict hadn´t been aware of the doctor´s yelp until the door swung open and his Master entered the room, assessing the situation in a heartbeat.
"I´m sorry, this is entirely my fault," Ducky said apologising to the dark-haired man, "I startled him with a sudden movement. I´m not used to my patients moving all that much."
His Master smiled and patted the doctor´s shoulder as he moved past him.
Spencer pressed even closer to his knees as his Master came closer, he was going to get punished for his disobedience. He sat frozen, unaware that he was shaking, and waited for what was surely to come.
What he didn´t expect was his Master hunching down next to him. "Spencer?" he said softly.
Unsure of what to do, the young man kept as still as he possible could. "I´m sorry, Sir," he whispered when it came clear to him that his Master was waiting for him to reply.
"It´s okay. May Ducky finish the exam or should we reschedule?"
"Whatever you wish, Sir." His voice didn´t seem to be able to speak above a whisper.
"Spencer, what do you want?"
What would his punishment be? A beating? No food for several days? His new Master using his stupidity to force himself on him? Spencer whimpered at the thought.
"Spencer?" His Master whispered.
A soft hand was planted on his shoulder, Spencer forced himself to not move away but he couldn´t hold back the shiver, he could feel his breathing getting shallow, it was all too much. He couldn´t do it, he couldn´t do this again, but he had to. No matter what, he had to.
"Spencer, you´re having a panic attack, I need you to take a deep breath," his Master said in a low voice next to him. Spencer forced air into his lungs, always aware of the hand on his shoulder, but he managed one long breath. "That´s it; again."
Spencer complied. This he could do. In and out, and then repeat.
***
Something to think about
FRT
"What can you lose?" Spencer asked, looking thoughtful at the carpet.
Hotch had prayed that he wouldn´t ask that, but Spencer knew, especialy after that speech that Hotch would be taking risks, too. "My job at the Bureau, either a reprimand from the BAR Association or dismissal of my license." He decided to leave out the part where his Convict Contract would be ripped and Spencer removed from his care.
"Spencer..." Aaron started.
"Can I think about it?" Spencer asked locking his eyes with Hotch´s.
"Of course, let me know what you decide."
Spencer chuckled. "Spoken like a true lawyer."
Aaron shared his laughter.
Three weeks went by and Spencer didn´t say a word. Aaron didn´t press him, he knew Spencer needed time to take in all the factors to get to the most logical decision, but three weeks was a bit of stretch, even for Spencer, unless he was doing something more.
"I have little under two years left of my sentence," Spencer told him one evening as they sat down to dinner.
Aaron knew Spencer could probably name exactly how many days he had left, but only agreed with him by nodding and pouring red wine into Spencer´s glass.
"And thereoff little less then eleven months left of your contract," Spencer continued.
"You´re not going anywhere," Hotch told him dryly and took a sip of his wine without looking at him.
"Twenty three months is not worth the risk," the young man told him quietly.
Now, Hotch looked across the table, setting his silverware down, resting his elbows on the table and linking his fingers together in thought. "Spencer, it´s also a matter of justice. Costner should be brought down for his crime," he said seriously.
Spencer looked at him. His eyes soft as he´d come to peace with his decision. "It really wasn´t that hard to come to a conclusion, especially if...I´ll be...here," the young man replied and a small blush reddened his cheeks as he pushed the food around on his plate.
"Two years is a long time," Hotch told him, "It´s two years of your freedom.
The young man looked in his eyes for a long time before answering. "It´s a smaller price then the alternative," he told him quietly.
"Why?"
"I can´t go back," Spencer told him and turned his head.
Aaron´s stomach tightened. Of course, Spencer could read between the lines. He knew that he would be taken from Hotch if they lost. And suddenly, winning didn´t matter any more; it was keeping Spencer with him and safe. That didn´t mean it wouldn´t sting.
Laying his hand over Spencer´s on the table, Hotch felt the jerk at the touch, but curled his fingers around the hand. "I´m sorry," he whispered.
"It´s not your fault," Spencer replied but didn´t pull his hand away, something he would have done three years ago. Aaron watched as his eyes became unfocused as his mind took him lightyears away.
"What are you thinking?" Aaron asked with a small smile and squeezed the hand slightly to bring him to the present.
Spencer´s head snapped up, and his eyes locked with Aaron’s. "I know you would do everything in your power to have my conviction overturned, but I can´t help but wonder if our paths would have crossed if I hadn´t been found guilty."
"You don´t think you´d join the BAU?" Hotch asked with a smile as a small knot settled in his chest. He´d never fully gotten rid of the guilt for forcing the job onto Spencer.
Spencer chuckled, "I´d probably be sitting in a stuffed office at one university or another. I find profiling much more interesting then teaching, but I doubt I would have thought my intellect could have been of value there."
"Spencer, not that I´m keeping score or belittling your experience, but for everything that has happened to you in the past eight years, I think more good has come out of it then bad."
Tightening his hold on Aaron´s hand, Spencer looked straight into his Master´s eyes. "I know it has and all of the good is because of you, because you chose me."
The last words bothered Hotch more then they should. Was Spencer still, after three years, stuck in doing what he thought Aaron wanted him to do? He withdrew his hand like he´d gotten burned.
Spencer looked at him with surprise for a moment until realization prompted his face. The young man abruptly stood up and made his way around the table, gently cupping the other man´s face in his hands.
"Aaron, from day one you have encouraged me to be who I am. You´ve never raised your voice or made me do anything that you weren´t sure I wanted to do. And for that, I will be forever grateful." Spencer kissed the corner of Aaron´s mouth before withdrawing and locking their eyes together. "The way you dedicate yourself to your team, the way your eyes light up when you smile, the way you do Elvis imitation on Karaoke nights, the way you sing Lennon in the shower, the way you let me crawl into bed and hold me when I´ve had a nightmare and the way you look at me when we are together, these are just a few of the reasons why I love you."
Spencer drew his thumb over the cheekbone letting his eyes follow the movement before locking his eyes again with Aaron´s. "I would never have know how it felt to be so scared that I thought I would faint because you were out facing a psychotic Unsub with a shotgun, how amazing it felt to say a joke and see you smile, how good it felt to stretch out on the couch with a book because you were in the same room, how my heart could ache for your touch, if you hadn´t chosen me."
Aaron was speechless. He quickly stood up and wrapped his arms around the young man´s waist. There was no doubt what Spencer was saying was true; it shone in his eyes.
"I love you," he whispered before leaning forward and claiming Spencer´s lips.
***
Letter
FRT
Aaron slowly woke up from his sleep. He stretched sleep from his body, and his right hand fell to the other side of the bed, where his lover should be sleeping. He opened his eyes slowly as the cold from Spencer´s side was registered by his brain. As he turned his head, he remembered today is the day he´s been dreading for the past four weeks. Today, Spencer leaves.
The cliche is old, he knows it: If you love something, set it free; if it comes backs it's yours, if it doesn't, it never was.* But Aaron knew that he can never live with himself if he doesn´t make Spencer do this. If Spencer realized he really did love him, he´d be back after 18 months.
They´d had heated arguments from the day Aaron had first brought it up, the day after the collar came off and the chip was removed from his neck. Spencer had fought him all the way, starting with he didn´t need to leave, the date he should leave and how long he needed to stay away. Aaron had prepared himself so he could argue with Spencer the only way Spencer knew how, with logic and statistic. It had been one of the hardest things he did, pushing his lover away.
The empty bed was cold and Aaron wondered what Spencer was up to, he hurried to the living room, expecting to find his lover packing a few last minute items but found his bags gone and the apartment empty.
His chest tightened at the thought of being alone again after five years of sharing the place with Spencer. It was so quiet and he couldn´t believe that Spencer would walk out without a good bye
A note by the coffeemaker caught his eyes as he scanned the kitchen for something, any marks that Spencer was coming back. Quickly retreaving it, his chest tightened and his vision blurred as he read it.
My dearest Aaron,
I´m sorry that I only leave you this letter. The memory of you, I will carry with me is being held in your arms and your face peaceful in your sleep. I fear that if I don´t leave like this, I won´t be able to walk away from you, knowing that I´ll be leaving you behind.
I both love you and hate you for doing this, but I´ve always known this needed to be done. I need to find my own place in the world, free from the curse of the collar and away from your shelter.
I can´t look to the future and not see you there and that is why I want to stay.
I can´t look to the future and not see you there and that is why I have to leave.
I love you, and I´ll see you in 547 days.
-Spencer
*Quote by Richard Bach
***
A/N II: There is one more chapter to this which is a one long fic. I don´t know when I´ll get around to finish it and post it but I have started it.
Comments are <3
Beta: A huge thank you to cmali for beta-ing. All mistakes are mine.
Ratings: Each chapter is rated
X-posted at criminalxminds and cm_hotch_reid
Home
FRT
Hotch led the way to the front door. Opening it up, he let Spencer in and noted that his eyes darted around taking everything in without raising his head. Closing the door, he once again thought how he could have let Directer Strauss pull this on him.
"Please, follow me," Hotch told the other man and walked inside the apartment after throwing his jacket over the back of the couch. He pointed out the rooms as he led him to the guestroom at the end of the hallway; technically, it was now Spencer´s room.
"This is your room," he said as he walked in and quickly scanned the room--the made up Queen-sized bed with bedside tables on each side, a small desk and a chair up against the opposite wall. It was bare, but hopefully with time, Spence would put his mark on it.
Spencer raised his head a bit before lowering it again which was the only indicator of surprise Hotch got. "Thank you, Sir," the young man whispered.
Hotch nodded quickly before walking back to the living room and found the key he´d been given as he signed the papers earlier in the day in the inside pocket of his jacket. He turned around and managed to hold his composure as he was startled by Spencer standing behind him. Looking down, he realized the carpet must have muted the bare feet following him. He needed to take the man shopping. Soon. The extra set, besides the one Spencer was wearing, of a white T and blue shorts wouldn´t do for long. At least he´d remember to do some basic things like buy a collar and call an old friend of his father’s who was a doctor.
Raising his hand, he saw Spencer stiffen, like he´d done in the car a few hours ago.
"Can you turn around, please. I´m going to take off your collar," Hotch said softly and opened his hand to show the young man the object in his palm. Spencer swiftly turned around and kneeled in front of him, like obeying an order (which he was basically, Hotch thought dryly) instead of a request.
"Stand up, please. I can´t reach it when you are kneeling." The man jumped to his feet, eager to please his new Master and Hotch swallowed the foul bile threatening to come up.
The lock was stiff, and Hotch had to use a bit of force to get it open as he heard the young man draw in ragged breaths. He pushed the convicts fear out of his mind, concentraiting on the task at hand. Finally, it snapped open. Hotch removed the metal thing, holding back the grunt of empathy. Underneath was the red scar where the locator had been inserted under the skin but that wasn´t what had the Agent worried. The whole skin under the collar was red, in a few places the collar had rubbed skin off so the flesh stood bare. Other places where obviously scarred from open wounds that had healed after a long time of being rubbed open over and over again.
"Spencer?" Hotch forced himself to keep his voice low.
"Yes, Sir," the convict spoke fast as he turned around to face him. His neck didn´t look any better on the front.
"How long have you had that collar around you neck?"
"Five years, one month, and six days, Sir." Spencer spoke to the floor.
"And no one took it of this whole time?"
"No, Sir."
Hotch drew in a long breath to calm his anger. He watched crime scenes photos every day, and saw mutilated bodies at least once a week. It made him wonder if the victims were better or worse off dead if any of them had had a collar around their neck for five years.
"Alright." Hotch said changing his line of thought. "Why don´t you go and take a shower while I start dinner. The towels are in the cabinet in the bathroom; just put everything in the hamper."
"Yes, Sir," Spencer said as he walked out of the living room.
Hotch started a light dinner of soup and sandwiches. He was too lost in his thoughts about his new situation and Spencer that he missed the sound of the bathroom door opening and Spencer making his way out to the living room.
It wasn´t until he closed the refridgerator that he felt the precense of someone else. He swiftly turned around, his hand flying to where his Glock usually rested and found it empty. Spencer knelt naked behind the couch in the small space next to the sofa table. His head hung low as he was trying to fold himself together, but his palm rested on the floor on each side. Hotch stared. God, he´s thin was the first thought that came to mind as he watched the pile of skin and bones kneeling behind his couch. Then he wondered why the young man wasn´t dressed and why he hadn´t come into the kitchen until he realized he hadn´t given any orders for that.
Hurrying into his own bedroom he found an old pair of sweats and a Tee. Hotch handed the clothing to the young man and asked him to get dressed. When he came to the kitchen, dinner was ready. With the food on the table, he called out to Spencer that dinner was ready.
The young man came inside and kneeled next to the table. "Please sit in the chair," Hotch said and took a large bite out of his thick sandwich as the convict took his seat.
Hotch ate; Spencer stared down at the food. Hotch gave him a few minutes, but when he didn´t move, he clenched his jaws. "Eat," he said abruptly, more harshly then he planned as the young man was startled. Spencer gave him a quick glance from underneath his long locks, hesitantly picked up the spoon and ate a spoon full. When it seemed clear to him that Hotch wasn´t going to stop him, he picked up the pace, finishing before Hotch.
Quietly, Hotch picked up Spencer´s bowl and put the rest of the soup in it and set it in front of the convict. Again, Hotchner had to tell him to eat, although he did it more softly this time. Hotch slowed down his eating, finishing right behind Spencer´s second bowl.
As soon as Hotch set his spoon down, Spencer grabbed the bowls and the plates and moved them to the sink. Hotch thought about stopping him, but realized that Spencer would have to contribute something to the co-living situation.
"Spencer," Hotch started carefully, "there is an old friend of my father’s coming over tonight. He´s a doctor, and I want him to look you over, give you a quick physical. Would that be alright?"
"Whatever you wish, Sir," Spencer replied and used the kitchen towel to dry off the few items.
Hotch drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. One step at the time; one step at the time.
***
Ducky
Follows immediately after Home
FRT
A/N: For the oddest reason Ducky (NCIS) found his way into my fic and after some thought I was positively sure that Ducky could have known Hotch´s (step?)father so I ran with it.
"Hello, my young fellow," the old short man with rounded glasses said as his master opened the door. Spencer hunched lower in the couch as the man entered the apartment, he had a bad feeling about what was coming and feared it.
The evening had been quiet after dinner. His master had shown Spencer his poor library and DVD-collection, and then left him alone. Spencer, unsure what his new master wanted him to do, had gone and kneeled behind the couch only to be asked to sit on it. So, he´d spent the last couple of hours fidgeting on the couch, risking a glance over his shoulder every now and then at his master who sat at the kitchen table with pictures and papers spread all around him.
"It´s been far too long, my friend," the old man continued and shook his master´s hand tightly.
"Ducky, good to see you," his Master greeted the doctor with a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder.
"Yes, my young fellow," the doctor continued after the small embrace, "I must say that you have inherited you father’s poor manners, only calling for personal reasons, not that I´m innocent of the same crime."
His Master chuckled, and, with a small hand gesture, offered him inside the apartment.
"And this must be...?" The older man dropped the sentence off as he stepped around Aaron and headed toward Spencer. Spencer couldn´t help but flinch and lean away at the abrupt way the man approached him.
The doctor stopped short when he noticed the reaction. Slowly turning his head, the doctor looked at his Master. "My, oh, my," he said quietly.
"This is Dr. Spencer Reid," his Master informed the doctor and nodded at the old man.
Spencer watched the doctor´s hand slowly being extended toward him. He glanced over at his Master to see what he wanted him to do and hesitantly accepted the hand when his Master nodded.
"My name is Dr. Mallard, but everyone calls me Ducky," the old man said as they shook hands.
"Ducky, can I offer you something to drink?" The dark-haired man asked to lighten the mood.
"Sure, I´ll take a nightcap, but why don´t we get the dreadful part over first, hmmm?"
"Alright. How about Spencer´s room?" Spencer tensed, his heart started thudding. This was it.
"That would be perfect," the older man said. "Come on, young man, lets get you looked at." Carefully, Spencer followed the two men into the room his Master had said was his. Ducky set his bag on the table and opened it, pulling out various objects he would be needing.
His Master stopped him in the doorway. "Do you want me to stay with you or wait outside?" He asked quietly.
"Whatever you wish, Sir," was the only reply that Spencer could give. What he wanted didn´t matter.
Turning toward the older man, his Master nodded and set his hand on the doorknob. "I´ll be right outside, just call if you need something." And with that, he closed the door leaving Spencer alone with the stranger.
"So, young man, lets start with something simple. How about taking off your shirt and sit on the bed?"
Spencer shed his shirt, carefully setting it on the bed as he sat on the brim. Keeping his head down, he managed to glance at the doctor as he walked closer and set the stethescope in his ears. "I´m only going to listen to your heart and lungs," Ducky told him. He couldn´t help but tense.
As the old man bent a bit to set the the round object on the man´s chest he noticed the red bruise around the neck. "Good grief," he exclaimed and Spencer was startled at the sudden outburst. Without thinking, he moved across the bed and curled into himself on the other side.
The convict hadn´t been aware of the doctor´s yelp until the door swung open and his Master entered the room, assessing the situation in a heartbeat.
"I´m sorry, this is entirely my fault," Ducky said apologising to the dark-haired man, "I startled him with a sudden movement. I´m not used to my patients moving all that much."
His Master smiled and patted the doctor´s shoulder as he moved past him.
Spencer pressed even closer to his knees as his Master came closer, he was going to get punished for his disobedience. He sat frozen, unaware that he was shaking, and waited for what was surely to come.
What he didn´t expect was his Master hunching down next to him. "Spencer?" he said softly.
Unsure of what to do, the young man kept as still as he possible could. "I´m sorry, Sir," he whispered when it came clear to him that his Master was waiting for him to reply.
"It´s okay. May Ducky finish the exam or should we reschedule?"
"Whatever you wish, Sir." His voice didn´t seem to be able to speak above a whisper.
"Spencer, what do you want?"
What would his punishment be? A beating? No food for several days? His new Master using his stupidity to force himself on him? Spencer whimpered at the thought.
"Spencer?" His Master whispered.
A soft hand was planted on his shoulder, Spencer forced himself to not move away but he couldn´t hold back the shiver, he could feel his breathing getting shallow, it was all too much. He couldn´t do it, he couldn´t do this again, but he had to. No matter what, he had to.
"Spencer, you´re having a panic attack, I need you to take a deep breath," his Master said in a low voice next to him. Spencer forced air into his lungs, always aware of the hand on his shoulder, but he managed one long breath. "That´s it; again."
Spencer complied. This he could do. In and out, and then repeat.
***
Something to think about
FRT
"What can you lose?" Spencer asked, looking thoughtful at the carpet.
Hotch had prayed that he wouldn´t ask that, but Spencer knew, especialy after that speech that Hotch would be taking risks, too. "My job at the Bureau, either a reprimand from the BAR Association or dismissal of my license." He decided to leave out the part where his Convict Contract would be ripped and Spencer removed from his care.
"Spencer..." Aaron started.
"Can I think about it?" Spencer asked locking his eyes with Hotch´s.
"Of course, let me know what you decide."
Spencer chuckled. "Spoken like a true lawyer."
Aaron shared his laughter.
Three weeks went by and Spencer didn´t say a word. Aaron didn´t press him, he knew Spencer needed time to take in all the factors to get to the most logical decision, but three weeks was a bit of stretch, even for Spencer, unless he was doing something more.
"I have little under two years left of my sentence," Spencer told him one evening as they sat down to dinner.
Aaron knew Spencer could probably name exactly how many days he had left, but only agreed with him by nodding and pouring red wine into Spencer´s glass.
"And thereoff little less then eleven months left of your contract," Spencer continued.
"You´re not going anywhere," Hotch told him dryly and took a sip of his wine without looking at him.
"Twenty three months is not worth the risk," the young man told him quietly.
Now, Hotch looked across the table, setting his silverware down, resting his elbows on the table and linking his fingers together in thought. "Spencer, it´s also a matter of justice. Costner should be brought down for his crime," he said seriously.
Spencer looked at him. His eyes soft as he´d come to peace with his decision. "It really wasn´t that hard to come to a conclusion, especially if...I´ll be...here," the young man replied and a small blush reddened his cheeks as he pushed the food around on his plate.
"Two years is a long time," Hotch told him, "It´s two years of your freedom.
The young man looked in his eyes for a long time before answering. "It´s a smaller price then the alternative," he told him quietly.
"Why?"
"I can´t go back," Spencer told him and turned his head.
Aaron´s stomach tightened. Of course, Spencer could read between the lines. He knew that he would be taken from Hotch if they lost. And suddenly, winning didn´t matter any more; it was keeping Spencer with him and safe. That didn´t mean it wouldn´t sting.
Laying his hand over Spencer´s on the table, Hotch felt the jerk at the touch, but curled his fingers around the hand. "I´m sorry," he whispered.
"It´s not your fault," Spencer replied but didn´t pull his hand away, something he would have done three years ago. Aaron watched as his eyes became unfocused as his mind took him lightyears away.
"What are you thinking?" Aaron asked with a small smile and squeezed the hand slightly to bring him to the present.
Spencer´s head snapped up, and his eyes locked with Aaron’s. "I know you would do everything in your power to have my conviction overturned, but I can´t help but wonder if our paths would have crossed if I hadn´t been found guilty."
"You don´t think you´d join the BAU?" Hotch asked with a smile as a small knot settled in his chest. He´d never fully gotten rid of the guilt for forcing the job onto Spencer.
Spencer chuckled, "I´d probably be sitting in a stuffed office at one university or another. I find profiling much more interesting then teaching, but I doubt I would have thought my intellect could have been of value there."
"Spencer, not that I´m keeping score or belittling your experience, but for everything that has happened to you in the past eight years, I think more good has come out of it then bad."
Tightening his hold on Aaron´s hand, Spencer looked straight into his Master´s eyes. "I know it has and all of the good is because of you, because you chose me."
The last words bothered Hotch more then they should. Was Spencer still, after three years, stuck in doing what he thought Aaron wanted him to do? He withdrew his hand like he´d gotten burned.
Spencer looked at him with surprise for a moment until realization prompted his face. The young man abruptly stood up and made his way around the table, gently cupping the other man´s face in his hands.
"Aaron, from day one you have encouraged me to be who I am. You´ve never raised your voice or made me do anything that you weren´t sure I wanted to do. And for that, I will be forever grateful." Spencer kissed the corner of Aaron´s mouth before withdrawing and locking their eyes together. "The way you dedicate yourself to your team, the way your eyes light up when you smile, the way you do Elvis imitation on Karaoke nights, the way you sing Lennon in the shower, the way you let me crawl into bed and hold me when I´ve had a nightmare and the way you look at me when we are together, these are just a few of the reasons why I love you."
Spencer drew his thumb over the cheekbone letting his eyes follow the movement before locking his eyes again with Aaron´s. "I would never have know how it felt to be so scared that I thought I would faint because you were out facing a psychotic Unsub with a shotgun, how amazing it felt to say a joke and see you smile, how good it felt to stretch out on the couch with a book because you were in the same room, how my heart could ache for your touch, if you hadn´t chosen me."
Aaron was speechless. He quickly stood up and wrapped his arms around the young man´s waist. There was no doubt what Spencer was saying was true; it shone in his eyes.
"I love you," he whispered before leaning forward and claiming Spencer´s lips.
***
Letter
FRT
Aaron slowly woke up from his sleep. He stretched sleep from his body, and his right hand fell to the other side of the bed, where his lover should be sleeping. He opened his eyes slowly as the cold from Spencer´s side was registered by his brain. As he turned his head, he remembered today is the day he´s been dreading for the past four weeks. Today, Spencer leaves.
The cliche is old, he knows it: If you love something, set it free; if it comes backs it's yours, if it doesn't, it never was.* But Aaron knew that he can never live with himself if he doesn´t make Spencer do this. If Spencer realized he really did love him, he´d be back after 18 months.
They´d had heated arguments from the day Aaron had first brought it up, the day after the collar came off and the chip was removed from his neck. Spencer had fought him all the way, starting with he didn´t need to leave, the date he should leave and how long he needed to stay away. Aaron had prepared himself so he could argue with Spencer the only way Spencer knew how, with logic and statistic. It had been one of the hardest things he did, pushing his lover away.
The empty bed was cold and Aaron wondered what Spencer was up to, he hurried to the living room, expecting to find his lover packing a few last minute items but found his bags gone and the apartment empty.
His chest tightened at the thought of being alone again after five years of sharing the place with Spencer. It was so quiet and he couldn´t believe that Spencer would walk out without a good bye
A note by the coffeemaker caught his eyes as he scanned the kitchen for something, any marks that Spencer was coming back. Quickly retreaving it, his chest tightened and his vision blurred as he read it.
My dearest Aaron,
I´m sorry that I only leave you this letter. The memory of you, I will carry with me is being held in your arms and your face peaceful in your sleep. I fear that if I don´t leave like this, I won´t be able to walk away from you, knowing that I´ll be leaving you behind.
I both love you and hate you for doing this, but I´ve always known this needed to be done. I need to find my own place in the world, free from the curse of the collar and away from your shelter.
I can´t look to the future and not see you there and that is why I want to stay.
I can´t look to the future and not see you there and that is why I have to leave.
I love you, and I´ll see you in 547 days.
-Spencer
*Quote by Richard Bach
***
A/N II: There is one more chapter to this which is a one long fic. I don´t know when I´ll get around to finish it and post it but I have started it.
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