Spencer Reid sat on the nondescript bed with his head in his hands, staring through his palms at the ugly, patterned carpet. The case had been one of the bad ones, really really bad. One of the ones with little kids. He shuddered at the memory of what the unsub had been doing to their helpless little bodies and began to cry softly as he lost the battle to keep the images from his mind's eye. It seemed like he sat for hours, cursing his incredible memory which forced him to relive every word of the coroner's reports and see the photographs over and over, crying quietly and letting his tears fall into the hideous carpet.
A soft knock came at the door and he ignored it, it would only be JJ or Emily, checking up on him as usual. Treating him like a baby as usual. The knock was repeated, more insistently this time, and a rich voice called, "Reid? C'mon man, I know you're up. Your light is on. Open the door, pretty boy."
Sighing, Reid stood and walked the few paces to the door in the full knowledge that the man in the corridor would give him no peace until he did. The door unlocked with a soft
snick
and he pulled it open, looking into the concerned face of Derek Morgan. He could feel his face flushing red with shame as the older man scanned his face and noted the swollen eyes and tear-stained skin.
"I'm fine, Morgan. Leave me alone." he said quietly, turning to close the door, but a strong hand caught the edge and held it open.
"No. You're not fine, Reid. What we just saw was messed up. You shouldn't be fine. It's ok, it was really fucking bad." The tone was gentle and Reid could feel himself softening, letting go of the door and allowing Morgan to open it fully. He took a step to the side to allow the muscular man into the room and started as he was pulled into a rib-crushing hug.
Morgan was one of the very few people he would allow to hug him like that and after a moment he relaxed, letting his stiff muscles relax against the hard body and feeling a burning in his throat as he began to cry again. His face was buried in Morgan's shoulder as he sobbed, soaking the material of his friend's shirt, his thin frame heaving.
Derek Morgan stood holding the young man close with one hand making soothing circles between his shoulder blades, feeling the sharp outlines of Reid's skeleton through his thin jumper. He lifted his other hand to stroke the tousled hair, brushing the silky strands with his fingers. He hated to see his friend like this, hated the way the genius's eyes would be deep hollows in the morning from lack of sleep after a night of torment.
When the worst of the shaking had subsided, Morgan unwrapped his arms from around the lithe body and took one of the slim, pale hands that hung limply by Spencer's side. Gently but firmly he guided him over to the bed, pushing the thin shoulder a little to lay the man down on the bed. Tenderly, he pulled the covers over Reid and made sure that he was snuggled deeply into the sheets before turning to take his leave.
"Get some sleep, pretty boy. It'll all seem better in the morning. Promise."