Title: The Needle and the Damage Done
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Spencer Reid
Fandom: Doctor Who/Criminal Minds
Rating: R
Table: Buffet 2, fc_smorgasbord
Prompt: 90, Needle
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor or Spencer Reid, unfortunately. Please do not sue.

***

Spencer stared at his pale face in the mirror, not liking what he saw there. The expression on his face terrified him. The hunger. The craving. The unspeakable need. He'd seen himself look like that before, at the lowest point of his life.

He didn't want to descend into that misery again. The Doctor had helped him get past his addiction -- or so he'd thought. He hadn't felt the need for Dilaudid in so long, but now that need was attacking him full force, and he didn't know how to combat it.

This wasn't something that he could go to the Doctor about. No. That was the last thing he should do. The Doctor would only be disappointed in him, and he could very likely decide that Spencer couldn't be here with him any more.

That would be worse than any other fate he could think of. He didn't want to imagine life without the Doctor; now that he'd found the place where he belonged, where he fit in completely, he didn't want to lose that stability in his life.

Why was he thinking this way? Spencer raised his head to look at himself again, hating what he saw. How could the Doctor love this person in the mirror? He was a fraud. He represented himself as being strong and capable -- but he was really an addict.

Taking a deep breath, Spencer closed his eyes, trying to push those thoughts away. The Doctor loved him. He wasn't going to give up on their relationship just because Spencer's addiction was deciding to raise its ugly head. The Doctor would help him.

He'd helped Spencer before, when they barely knew each other. Maybe neither of them had expected the cravings to come back, but they were closer now than they'd been when the Doctor had first extended a hand to help him. Things were different now.

The problem was finding the right words to tell his lover that those cravings were back, that he wasn't as stable as he'd thought. The Doctor wouldn't blame him for that, but he might be annoyed that Spencer didn't have the strength to fight those cravings by himself.

He opened his eyes, staring into the mirror again. Just what did the Time Lord see in him? They had their superior intellects in common, but other than that, exactly what was it that made the Doctor love him in that fierce, protective way he had?

Spencer bit his lip, looking away from his reflection. He could see that craving, that need, written in his expression, lurking at the back of his gaze. And he was sure that the Doctor would be able to see it, too. The other man knew him well now, after all.

Would the Doctor be able to see that in his face, too? Would his lover be able to look at him and tell that something within him had subtly changed? He didn't want it to be noticeable -- but if the Doctor actually saw it, then it would be easier than having to tell the Time Lord how he felt.

Sighing, he looked down at his hands, raising them slowly in front of his face to inspect them. They were shaking, trembling; not the capable hands of the man he was when he didn't feel these cravings tearing him to pieces inside.

He would have to tell the Doctor what he was feeling. It wasn't enough to expect the other man to be able to read those cravings in his face; he would have to spell it out, be sure that the Doctor knew just what he was dealing with if he chose to hold out that helping hand again.

Would he be willing to do that? Spencer's hands dropped to his sides; he bowed his head, closing his eyes again to hold back the rush of tears he could feel threatening to break free. What if the Doctor didn't want to go through that again? What if the Time Lord turned him away?

He wouldn't do that, Spencer told himself, his inner voice sounding panicked and desperate in his head. The Doctor loved him, just as he loved the Doctor. What they shared wasn't something that either of them could turn their backs on because of a substance abuse problem.

There were no needles on the ship -- at least none that Spencer knew of. No Dilaudid. He wouldn't be able to go back to his bad habits; he wouldn't be able to inject himself, to shoot the drug into his veins and feel it spreading through his body.

He'd done so much damage to himself with that already; he didn't want to start it again. But unless he had some kind of way to stop the cravings, Spencer knew that he would attempt to go back to it -- even if that meant telling the Doctor to take him back to Earth.

He didn't want to go. He didn't want to leave the Doctor, and the exciting new life that the TIme Lord had given him. But Spencer knew what a hold this need could have over him -- and he knew that if he didn't manage to push it away, he would do anything to assuage that craving.

If only he had a needle .... Spencer shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed as a spasm racked him. He wasn't going to go that route again. He wasn't going to give in, no matter how hard it was not to. He couldn't risk losing everything he now held dear.

A gasp came from his throat as he looked up into the mirror again -- and realized that the Doctor was now standing beside him, studying him, not saying a word. He swallowed hard, turning to look at his lover, wondering what the Time Lord was thinking.

Could he possibly know what was going through Spencer's mind? Could this man tell what he was thinking, what he was feeling? Did he somehow know that Spencer craved the feeling of the needle in his arm, the rush that would spread over his body and block out everything else?

"You're feeling the need for those drugs again, aren't you?" the Doctor asked, his voice quiet. Spencer gasped again at the words; he hadn't expected the Time Lord to know exactly what he was thinking and feeling. At least not to this extent.

But he couldn't lie and say that the Doctor's perceptions weren't the right ones. He loved this man; there was no way that he could deny what he was feeling. If he lied to his lover, he had no right to stay here, no right to be part of the Doctor's life.

Spencer couldn't force himself to speak; all he could do was nod, closing his eyes in an attempt to keep tears from spilling over. But they wouldn't stop; they began to streak down his face, the sobs following them even though he fought to hold them in.

"Shh, sweetheart." Spencer felt the Doctor's arms around him, those soft lips against his hair. "We've gotten through this before -- we can do it again. It may take a while, but we'll beat this." He placed a finger under Spencer's chin, lifting the young man's face to his. "Together."

Relief flooded through him as he heard those words; his legs felt weak and rubbery, almost as though they weren't going to keep holding him up. The Doctor wasn't going to leave him. He wasn't angry, or annoyed, or disappointed. He was here, just as strong as he'd ever been.

"I can't do this without you," Spencer managed to whisper, his voice breaking on the last word. He blinked back his tears, raising a hand to wipe at his eyes. "I'm sorry that this is all coming back now. I was so sure that I was past all this."

"I'm right here, love," the Doctor told him, his voice strong and steady. "I'm not going to let you down, Spencer. I promise you that. Whatever it takes for you to get past this and put it behind you, we'll do it. We'll both have to be strong."

"I've done so much damage to myself," Spencer whispered, sniffling as he spoke. "I don't want to cause you any collateral damage along the way." Maybe you would be better off without me, his mind echoed, almost prompting him to say the words aloud.

But he didn't. He couldn't. He wasn't going to push the Doctor away from him, not when his lover was holding him and saying that he would be there. He wasn't going to turn down the help that he knew he needed -- and he wasn't going to let his addiction win.

"We'll get through this," the Doctor said again, leaning forward and brushing his lips against Spencer's in a soft, gentle kiss. "And the first thing to do is to get you to bed and make you comfortable. I have the feeling that this may be a very long few days."

Spencer sniffled again, trying to smile as he nodded. "I think you're definitely right about that," he murmured, taking a deep breath and straightening up to his full height as his gaze met the Doctor's. "This is going to get a lot worse," he sighed, shaking his head.

"I know it is," the Doctor said softly, slipping an arm around Spencer's waist as they left the bathroom and made their way down the corridor to their bedroom. "But the damage done isn't irreparable. We'll make it through, Spencer. And we'll be stronger for the experience."

Spencer hoped that the Doctor's words were true; he let his mind wrap around those words and hold on tightly to them. The love and sincerity behind those words would help him through this -- that, and the caring ministrations of the man he loved.

***