Title: Twisting the Knife
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: R
Table: writers_choice
Prompt: #395, Knife
Author's Note: Spoilers for the Criminal Minds episode "100."
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Aaron Hotchner or Spencer Reid, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.

***

Aaron groaned as the knife twisted in his side again, the insidious whisper grating on his nerves, the voice low and menacing, growling in his ear.

"You'll look just like me."

"No," he moaned, tossing fretfully, his head turning from side to side. "Not like you. I'm nothing like you." He cried out as the knife twisted again, this time in his belly. And then there was another knife, a pain that he felt far more acutely and intimately.

This knife thrust was something that he'd never felt before, something that he'd never expected to feel until he'd let Spencer make love to him. The knife twisted, pushing further inside him, ripping, tearing, taking his perception of himself and warping it beyond recognition.

All he could feel was that knife that twisted deep inside him, taking him over, warping him with the pain of it. He didn't want to think about that pain; he wanted to cut it out of his mind, away from his being. He didn't want to acknowledge its existence.

"You'll carry these scars. You'll never forget me."

"No," he moaned again, shaking his head violently, thrashing, trying to get away. "I'll never be like you. I don't want to remember you. I'll put you behind bars if it's the last thing I do." He tried to lash out, to lift his arms, to fight back, but he was pinned down, locked into place.

He couldn't move, couldn't speak. All he could do was feel -- and all he could feel was pain. Pain that coursed through him like the hot blood through his veins, spilling out onto the carpet, staining the floor around him with a visceral red that slowly seeped outward.

"Aaron. Aaron Wake up!"

It took a few moments for him to realize that someone was shaking him, pulling him out of the miasma of pain and fear that he'd been slowly drowning in. His eyes flew open, staring up at the young man who was leaning over him, one hand shaking his shoulder.

"Hey, wake up!" Spencer said again, his tone frantic. "Aaron, wake up! You're having a dream. Foyet isn't here. It isn't real. You're dreaming. Snap out of it!" His voice was breathless, as though he couldn't get the words out quickly enough.

Aaron sat up slowly, taking deep gulps of air, his hands automatically moving down his body. Yes, the scars were there -- but the blood wasn't. He was safe, here in his own bed. The nightmare with Foyet was over. It was done He had exacted his own revenge for what had gone before.

Had he? Would there ever be enough revenge in the world to satisfy his angry soul?

Because he was anger. He was scared, he was ashamed, and he was mad. Not only had Foyet taken something that he'd wanted to give to the person he loved, that monster had taken someone from his life whom he'd cherished.

They might not be married any more, he might have moved on with his life, but his former wife was still a part of who he was. She was the mother of his son. They would always have a connection -- and Foyet had severed that in one single act of ultimate cruelty.

Another knife twisted in him at the thought -- this time in his heart. Jack would grow up without a mother, without someone in his life who would provide the stability that only a mother could give. He himself would try to be the best parent he could, but there would always be something missing.

No revenge he could possibly take would have made up for that.

Aaron slowly lifted his gaze to Spencer's worried face; he could see that his young lover was pale and trembling, those huge dark eyes fixed on his face. Spencer needed comfort as much as he himself did; he needed to know that Aaron wasn't falling apart at the seams.

He tried to smile, but he could feel by the way his facial muscles had to be forced into the semblance of that expression that it was a pale imitation at best. Spencer let out a breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he spoke in a soft voice.

"Are you okay?" The words were barely audible; Aaron could hear the fear behind them.

He nodded, then cleared his throat, knowing that he had to speak. "Yes, I'm fine," he managed to say, though his voice sounded hoarse, weak and unconvincing to his own ears. "I just had a nightmare. That dream .... comes back to me once in a while."

"I know," Spencer said softly, nodding. "I've been with you once before when you had that dream. It still scares me now just as much as it did then." He took another deep breath, reaching for Aaron's hand and holding it tightly, as though he was holding onto a lifeline.

Aaron squeezed his boyfriend's hand as reassuringly as he could; he didn't know what else to do. He wanted to burrow under the covers again and lie there for the rest of the night wide-eyed, thinking about anything he could to keep himself from sleeping.

The knife twisted again, almost making him gasp with the suddenness of it.

Was he going to feel that knife twisting inside him every night? Was he ever going to be able to put what Foyet had done to him into the past, and move on into a happy life with Spencer? He was trying his best to do that. But it seemed that his best wasn't good enough.

He didn't want to drag Spencer down into the darkness that he felt he was falling more and more deeply into ever since that fateful night. Spencer was his light; along with Jack, this young man was the most important thing in his life.

No matter how much that knife twisted, no matter how acute the pain was, he had to struggle against it. He couldn't let himself be dragged into that darkness that beckoned to him; he couldn't let Foyet's evil triumph after the man himself was gone.

He had to find a way to stop that twisting knife. He couldn't let Spencer see what it was doing to him.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the feeling of having a knife twisting deep inside him out of his mind, trying to slam a mental door on that sensation. All he could do was banish it to the edges of his thoughts; it wasn't going to go away entirely.

How was he going to explain that knife to Spencer? How could he tell his boyfriend about something that he didn't fully understand himself? He should be over the nightmares of Foyet's attack. He should have been able to put them behind him after he'd taken his revenge.

Could he explain how he felt? He didn't feel that he had the words; and even if he did, this wasn't the time to go into it. He needed the comfort of Spencer's arms; he needed to let his boyfriend hols him, to make the nightmare recede into the mist.

And most of all, he needed Spencer to make that knife stop twisting.

"I'll be okay," he managed to say, giving Spencer another wan smile. "I'm sorry that you have to deal with this, Spencer. I'd thought that the nightmares would go away, but obviously I was wrong. I hope you can bear with me. It might take some time."

"I'll be here whenever you need me," Spencer said softly, his gaze not leaving Aaron's face. Aaron's heart turned over at the expression he saw there; love and compassion, a need to help that Spencer couldn't hide. He was so ingenuous, so completely open and honest.

"I know you will," Aaron whispered. And with those words, the twisting stopped.

Just like that. The knife was no longer rending his flesh; there was no more pain, no more gasping for breath, no more helpless feeling. Just looking at Spencer, seeing the love written on his boyfriend's face, was enough to make that pain disappear.

It wouldn't stay gone. Aaron knew that. It would be back, tearing at him again when he least expected it. That dream -- no, not a dream; a memory -- wasn't going to simply go away just because he was in love. It was going to keep haunting him, forever trying to crush him in its jaws.

But he wouldn't let it touch Spencer.

And if he was lucky, one day, that knife would stop its twisting forever. Maybe he would be able to put the actions of that night behind him, banish them to the realm of nightmares and dreamscapes, make them seem as though they had happened to someone else.

It was a vague hope. But it was one that he would cling to -- because he didn't really have a choice with that, did he? If he didn't, then that knife would only push more deeply inside him and keep twisting until it broke off. It would then withdraw, leaving a bit of itself inside him forever.

He couldn't let that happen. Whatever he did, he had to keep that knife away from Spencer. He didn't know how he'd manage it, but he would. He'd do whatever he had to do to keep that knife from twisting any more deeply into him, invading the life they would build together.

Taking a deep breath, he lay back against the pillows again, closing his eyes.

Within seconds, he could feel Spencer lying down beside him, those thin arms sliding around his waist. He raised a hand to ruffle Spencer's hair, not wanting to say anything to break the silence between them. No words needed to be spoken; Spencer knew how he felt.

There was no twisting knife, no pain spreading out from the core of him. He was almost afraid to drift off to sleep again, for fear that it would come back, that the knife would twist inside him more deeply than ever, and that this time, there would be no stopping it.

If only he could stay awake forever, hold that twisting knife at bay. But it was impossible.

Sighing, Aaron let himself relax, his last conscious thought the hope that his memories of Foyet wouldn't keep twisting the knife, drawing his blood until there was no more left for him to give.

***