Fanfic: Shattered Glass - Chapter 4: Depression
Fanfic masterpost
Chapter 3: Bargaining
Chapter 4: Depression
They were in the middle of Fucking Nowhere, Hell. Or, at least, it was hot enough to be Hell, and there was nothing around them. It turned out evil looked just as bad in a small town of barely two hundred people all related to each other one way or the other, as it did in New York City or San Francisco.
The FBI had been called in to help after the third murder, in the hope they could bring some objectivity to the case along with a profile. It was almost impossible to see all your friends and relatives, all the people you grew up with, as suspects of a serial murder case.
And yet that was the first thing the BAU team had said when they arrived: it was someone from the town; an outsider would have been noticed.
It’d taken them less than 15 hours to narrow down the suspect list to one deranged teenager who’d soon enough admitted he’d been killing because he was bored.
“He was bored,” Rossi said, still in disbelief despite himself. He rarely saw something that really shocked him anymore, having learned by now to expect the worse from humanity, but this was something. The joke he’d made on arrival about becoming a serial killer too if he’d had to live in such a place his whole life, was now strangely disturbing.
Derek shrugged. “It’s just an excuse. He would have become a killer even if he’d lived in Paris or Las Vegas.”
“Speaking of Las Vegas,” Rossi nodded in the general direction of Spencer, who was sitting miserably on the couch in the hall of the motel, rubbing at his eyes as if he wanted to take them out. “Are you going to just ignore him?”
Derek looked at Spencer. Migraine, and a bad one too. He was glad they were spending the night in Fucking Nowhere, Spencer didn’t look like he could make it to the car, let alone to the airport and all the way back to Washington.
He went to sit on the couch next to him and placed a hand on his knee to let him know he was there. “Let’s get you to bed,” he said.
He expected Spencer to say he was fine, instead he went with Derek’s second pick of stupid answer: “I can do it by myself.”
Of course he could. Only, not really, because as soon as he moved to get up the pain in his head made him dizzy and, if it hadn’t been for Derek’s hold on his arm, he would have fallen down.
“Humor me,” Derek said, as he slid an arm around Spencer’s waist to steady him.
Spencer really didn’t have any energy left to fight, and after all he really couldn’t do it by himself, so he let Derek help him to his small bedroom and on the bed. He kept his eyes closed - the light fucking hurt him - trusting Derek to lead him around any obstacles. He also let him take off his shoes and guide him to lie down.
He mumbled a ‘thanks’ when Derek shut the blinds. When he heard him leave the room, he sighed. He didn’t even know what he’d been hoping, maybe just that Derek would magically make his headache disappear before leaving. He would have been happy with that, at the moment.
Truth was, he’d been hoping Derek would stay.
He buried his head beneath the pillow and started mentally listing the Beatles’ albums, with year of release and tracklist. Something easy to keep his mind busy and maybe forget about the throbbing pain in his head.
He was half-way through the tracklist of Revolver when he heard the door open. Someone came in, then the door was shut again. He tensed.
“It’s just me, kid,” Derek whispered. He hadn’t called him ‘kid’ ever since they’d broken up.
“’kay,” Spencer managed to say. He felt the mattress sink under Derek’s weight as he sat down on the bed next to him and then the pillow being moved away from over his head. He let out a displeased moan, but did nothing to cover his head again.
“I went to get you some ice.”
It wasn’t as effective as a painkiller, but on the other hand it did help some and as far as Spencer knew, no one had ever gotten addicted to it. After taking a moment to gather his strength, he rolled over on his back, his left arm going up to protect his eyes from even the faintest light. Without saying a word, Derek unbuttoned his shirt and helped him take it off. Once Spencer was lying on his belly again, he placed the towel-wrapped ice on his neck, skin now naked without the shirt collar protecting it.
Spencer sighed at how good it felt against his hot skin. Now he just had to wait for the ice to relieve some of the pain. He usually felt better in a matter of ten minutes, and half an hour later he could open his eyes and sometimes even read a book without feeling like a knife was being pushed into his brain.
It took him a while to notice that Derek was rubbing the small of his back in slow circles. He was suddenly reminded of the first time Derek had done it. It was a Sunday afternoon and they were lying on the couch snuggled up together. Derek was watching the game and losing a friendly banter with Emily on why men like football so much. Spencer had decided it was not worth getting into it and preferred to bury his head in Derek’s shoulder and try to take a nap. When Derek started rubbing his back, he smiled. It felt good. He was almost asleep when he heard an amused Emily ask, “Is he purring yet?”
He smiled at the memory despite the pain - which, actually, was slowly subsiding.
And then he remembered what, even for a few minutes, he’d managed to forget. He and Derek weren’t together anymore. Derek was only there because of his headache. As soon as he felt better, Derek would go back to his own room. Even if he’d stayed the night, it didn’t mean in the morning things would be different.
He immediately tensed at the thought and, careful not to make any sudden movements, shifted away from Derek’s touch.
“I’m feeling better, thank you. You can go now. I’ll be fine,” he said. He opened his eyes to prove his point. His head was still throbbing, but much less than before.
“Do you want me to go? Because I can stay…”
“No, go. I’m not your boyfriend, remember? You don’t have to take care of me.”
Derek sighed at that. “I still care about you, kid. Always will.”
“Don’t call me that.” Keeping the ice in place with one hand, Spencer sat up so he wouldn’t have to look up at Derek. “You broke up with me. You left me. So go and give me a chance to forget about you. It’s hard enough to see you at work every day, without having you touching me like that or calling me ‘kid’. Please, just… just go.”
Having said that, Spencer collapsed back into a lying position and closed his eyes shut, hoping to fall asleep soon. All Derek could do was what Spencer had asked him: leave.
Chapter 5: Acceptance
Chapter 3: Bargaining
Chapter 4: Depression
They were in the middle of Fucking Nowhere, Hell. Or, at least, it was hot enough to be Hell, and there was nothing around them. It turned out evil looked just as bad in a small town of barely two hundred people all related to each other one way or the other, as it did in New York City or San Francisco.
The FBI had been called in to help after the third murder, in the hope they could bring some objectivity to the case along with a profile. It was almost impossible to see all your friends and relatives, all the people you grew up with, as suspects of a serial murder case.
And yet that was the first thing the BAU team had said when they arrived: it was someone from the town; an outsider would have been noticed.
It’d taken them less than 15 hours to narrow down the suspect list to one deranged teenager who’d soon enough admitted he’d been killing because he was bored.
“He was bored,” Rossi said, still in disbelief despite himself. He rarely saw something that really shocked him anymore, having learned by now to expect the worse from humanity, but this was something. The joke he’d made on arrival about becoming a serial killer too if he’d had to live in such a place his whole life, was now strangely disturbing.
Derek shrugged. “It’s just an excuse. He would have become a killer even if he’d lived in Paris or Las Vegas.”
“Speaking of Las Vegas,” Rossi nodded in the general direction of Spencer, who was sitting miserably on the couch in the hall of the motel, rubbing at his eyes as if he wanted to take them out. “Are you going to just ignore him?”
Derek looked at Spencer. Migraine, and a bad one too. He was glad they were spending the night in Fucking Nowhere, Spencer didn’t look like he could make it to the car, let alone to the airport and all the way back to Washington.
He went to sit on the couch next to him and placed a hand on his knee to let him know he was there. “Let’s get you to bed,” he said.
He expected Spencer to say he was fine, instead he went with Derek’s second pick of stupid answer: “I can do it by myself.”
Of course he could. Only, not really, because as soon as he moved to get up the pain in his head made him dizzy and, if it hadn’t been for Derek’s hold on his arm, he would have fallen down.
“Humor me,” Derek said, as he slid an arm around Spencer’s waist to steady him.
Spencer really didn’t have any energy left to fight, and after all he really couldn’t do it by himself, so he let Derek help him to his small bedroom and on the bed. He kept his eyes closed - the light fucking hurt him - trusting Derek to lead him around any obstacles. He also let him take off his shoes and guide him to lie down.
He mumbled a ‘thanks’ when Derek shut the blinds. When he heard him leave the room, he sighed. He didn’t even know what he’d been hoping, maybe just that Derek would magically make his headache disappear before leaving. He would have been happy with that, at the moment.
Truth was, he’d been hoping Derek would stay.
He buried his head beneath the pillow and started mentally listing the Beatles’ albums, with year of release and tracklist. Something easy to keep his mind busy and maybe forget about the throbbing pain in his head.
He was half-way through the tracklist of Revolver when he heard the door open. Someone came in, then the door was shut again. He tensed.
“It’s just me, kid,” Derek whispered. He hadn’t called him ‘kid’ ever since they’d broken up.
“’kay,” Spencer managed to say. He felt the mattress sink under Derek’s weight as he sat down on the bed next to him and then the pillow being moved away from over his head. He let out a displeased moan, but did nothing to cover his head again.
“I went to get you some ice.”
It wasn’t as effective as a painkiller, but on the other hand it did help some and as far as Spencer knew, no one had ever gotten addicted to it. After taking a moment to gather his strength, he rolled over on his back, his left arm going up to protect his eyes from even the faintest light. Without saying a word, Derek unbuttoned his shirt and helped him take it off. Once Spencer was lying on his belly again, he placed the towel-wrapped ice on his neck, skin now naked without the shirt collar protecting it.
Spencer sighed at how good it felt against his hot skin. Now he just had to wait for the ice to relieve some of the pain. He usually felt better in a matter of ten minutes, and half an hour later he could open his eyes and sometimes even read a book without feeling like a knife was being pushed into his brain.
It took him a while to notice that Derek was rubbing the small of his back in slow circles. He was suddenly reminded of the first time Derek had done it. It was a Sunday afternoon and they were lying on the couch snuggled up together. Derek was watching the game and losing a friendly banter with Emily on why men like football so much. Spencer had decided it was not worth getting into it and preferred to bury his head in Derek’s shoulder and try to take a nap. When Derek started rubbing his back, he smiled. It felt good. He was almost asleep when he heard an amused Emily ask, “Is he purring yet?”
He smiled at the memory despite the pain - which, actually, was slowly subsiding.
And then he remembered what, even for a few minutes, he’d managed to forget. He and Derek weren’t together anymore. Derek was only there because of his headache. As soon as he felt better, Derek would go back to his own room. Even if he’d stayed the night, it didn’t mean in the morning things would be different.
He immediately tensed at the thought and, careful not to make any sudden movements, shifted away from Derek’s touch.
“I’m feeling better, thank you. You can go now. I’ll be fine,” he said. He opened his eyes to prove his point. His head was still throbbing, but much less than before.
“Do you want me to go? Because I can stay…”
“No, go. I’m not your boyfriend, remember? You don’t have to take care of me.”
Derek sighed at that. “I still care about you, kid. Always will.”
“Don’t call me that.” Keeping the ice in place with one hand, Spencer sat up so he wouldn’t have to look up at Derek. “You broke up with me. You left me. So go and give me a chance to forget about you. It’s hard enough to see you at work every day, without having you touching me like that or calling me ‘kid’. Please, just… just go.”
Having said that, Spencer collapsed back into a lying position and closed his eyes shut, hoping to fall asleep soon. All Derek could do was what Spencer had asked him: leave.
Chapter 5: Acceptance