Title: Runaway
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Spencer Reid
Fandom: Doctor Who/Criminal Minds
Rating: R
Table: 5, sound_of_drums
Prompt: 15, Addicted Warnings: Mentions of drug use/addiction.
Author's Note: Continuation of Who We Are.
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.

***

The Doctor looked around Spencer's apartment, trying to take in everything that he saw and let the young man's belongings give him an impression of how Spencer lived. But that seemed to be more easily said than done.

The only impression that the small living room of Spencer's home gave him was that this young man was extraordinarily organized -- except where his desk was concerned.

There seemed to be a place for everything in this neatly arranged apartment -- books were lined up neatly on the shelves, Spencer's coat hung on the coat rack by the front door, cds stacked rather symmetrically next to the stereo.

But Spencer's desk was a mess -- papers strewn over the surface, as though he hadn't been able to go through them fast enough. Books and file folders were on top of each other, papers shoved between pages as though to mark a specific place.

It was an interesting dichotomy -- and the Doctor couldn't help but wonder which side was the real Spencer Reid. Or if maybe there were two sides to this intriguing young man -- and which side was the one he showed most to the world.

He had the definite feeling that he'd only begun to scratch the surface of what Spencer was like, and he couldn't help feeling eager to find out more.

He couldn't help turning towards the back of the apartment, peering in the direction that Spencer had disappeared in. He'd been gone for what seemed like quite a while -- and the Doctor was starting to get worried about him.

That was ridiculous, he told himself, trying to keep back the urge to seek Spencer out, to find out what he was doing and if he was all right. He'd excused himself and gone into the back of the place almost as soon as they'd arrived, and the Doctor couldn't help but wonder what he was doing.

What if he'd fallen and hurt himself, and needed help? The thought alarmed the Doctor, making him take a few steps towards the hallway where Spencer had disappeared. But he hesitated; he might be completely wrong, and make a fool of himself.

But it didn't matter how he himself might look, he finally decided, moving towards the hallway. If he was right and Spencer needed help with something, he would feel terrible knowing that he hadn't been there to give that help.

There was no sound other than his own breathing, but the short hairs on the back of his neck were prickling, as though there was some sort of menace in the air.

What could possibly give him that feeling? His frown grew, his senses on the alert. He almost wanted to take out the sonic screwdriver, just in case it was needed, but that seemed silly. It was a precaution that he didn't need to take -- at least, he hoped so.

A low moan from behind a closed door to his right made him catch his breath; that was definitely Spencer, and from the sound of it, he might be in pain. What could have happened? He wasn't going to wait to find out.

The Doctor grasped the doorknob, turning it -- to his surprise, it wasn't locked, only closed. The door swung open when he pushed at it; he stood there, blinking, trying to accustom himself to the dimness of the darkened room.

What he saw made him gasp, his eyes widening with shock -- and horror.

Spencer looked up at him, his dark eyes also wide, but for a very different reason. He looked startled at first -- then the expression that settled over his features was that the Doctor could only describe as embarrassment.

"Spencer .... what are you doing?" That was a stupid thing to say, the Time Lord told himself. It was obvious what Spencer was doing.

The needle protruding from the young man's arm told him everything he needed to know. Spencer was doing drugs -- drugs that were more than likely dangerous. Of course they were, the Doctor admonished himself as soon as the thought surfaced in his mind. They all were.

He advanced into the room, his eyes not leaving Spencer's. The last thing he wanted was for the young man to do anything stupid -- like trying to run out of the room. He certainly didn't want Spencer running away from him when he was obviously in need of help.

"Spencer," he said softly, seeing the young man's muscles tense and knowing that Spencer was going to move at any moment. "Please, stay where you are. I want to help. Don't run away from me, please."

"You can't help me," Spencer said, the words coming out on a sob. "Nobody can. I've got to help myself. Nobody can do it for me."

"Why did you start doing this?" the Doctor asked softly, sure that there had to be some underlying reason for this otherwise intelligent, stable young man to be sucked into a world of drugs. Somehow, Spencer didn't seem at all like the type for that.

"I was ...." Spencer looked down, as though he couldn't face the Doctor. He raised his hands, covering his face, and the Doctor was sure that he would start sobbing at any moment. He was even more sure of that when the young man's shoulders began to shake.

"Shhh, Spencer, don't," he said, sitting down on the bed and placing a hand on Spencer's arm. "It's going to be all right, I promise. We'll work through this."

"We?" Spencer finally looked up at him, his face ravaged. "You barely know me. You don't have any obligation to help me with anything."

"Yes, I do," the Doctor told him, gingerly moving closer to Spencer, hoping that the young man wouldn't pull away from him. "I want to help you. And somehow, I don't think you'd have asked me to come here if you didn't want to be helped."

"How are you going to help me?" Spencer almost wailed. He raised his hands to his face again; the Doctor used that opportunity to lean forward and remove the needle, which was obviously empty, from his arm.

He laid the offending object on the small table by Spencer's bed, moving closer to take the young man in his arms. "I hope I can," he said quietly, smoothing Spencer's hair back from his face. "But you have to tell me why you're in this situation."

"I ...." Spencer gulped, hiding his face against the Doctor's shoulder as he spoke. "I was kidnapped by one of the people we were profiling. He .... he tortured me .... and kept injecting me with drugs. And afterwards .... I couldn't stop."

The Doctor closed his eyes, his hearts clenching in his chest. Spencer didn't want this; he hadn't begun taking drugs by choice. He'd been forced to it, in the cruelest way possible.

Which meant that, hopefully, it might not be as hard for him to stop as it would be if he'd actually wanted the drugs. It was a slim hope, but it was there nonetheless -- and at the moment, the Doctor would grasp at any straw that presented itself.

"You'll get past this," he whispered, cradling Spencer in his arms. "I promise, Spencer. I know that we don't know each other well yet -- but we will. And I'll do whatever I can to help you. I'll be there every step of the way."

He had no idea how he was going to keep that promise -- but now that he'd made it, he wasn't going to renege. He would do whatever he could to help Spencer, even if it meant dealing with things that would be less than pleasant.

Why was he doing this? He didn't really know -- but he knew that he wanted Spencer to be a part of his life. He wanted this young man with him .... and he wanted Spencer to be healthy and happy, free of the demons that were obviously breathing down his neck.

The first step towards doing that was getting Spencer back to the Tardis -- though he didn't know how he was going to explain the ship to this young man.

He would deal with that when they got there, the Doctor thought, getting slowly to his feet, one arm still around Spencer. He only hoped that this could be dealt with -- and in a way that would bring Spencer closer to him, rather than make him run as far away as he could.

It seemed that this young man was already doing a fair amount of running, and it was past time for that to stop. He couldn't keep running away from his problems.

"Come on," he said softly, heading for the door with Spencer in tow. "There's something I need to show you -- and I have something to tell you that you might find it hard to believe."

***

Next story in series - Trust in Me.