Title: Angels of the Silences
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: PG-13
Table: 3, 20_est_relships
Prompt: 15, Reflection
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.

***

"No .... don't touch him .... don't," Aaron moaned, tossing and turning from one side of his pillow to the other. "Keep your hands off him .... Don't ...." His cries were escalating, getting louder as his movements became more violent.

He thrashed himself into consciousness, sitting up with a gasp, his eyes flying open. Beside him, Spencer sat up too, blinking like a startled owl that had just been snatched from the cradle of sleep. He reached out to touch Aaron's arm, his touch hesitant, tentative.

Aaron managed to nod, taking several deep breaths before he could speak. "It was just a nightmare," he muttered, wanting to pull away, not ready to be touched by unable to make himself shake Spencer's hand off his arm. "I've been having them lately."

Spencer nodded slowly, his dark eyes still wide with trepidation. "Do you want me to get you a .... a glass of water or something?" he offered, obviously unsure as to what he should do. He was trying to comfort his lover as best he could, Aaron realized with a rush of gratitude.

But he shook his head, throwing back the covers and giving his young lover a strained smile. "No, that's all right. I'll be fine. I'm just going to splash some cold water on my face. I'll be back in a few minutes, sweetheart. Don't worry."

With those words, he got out of bed, throwing another smile at Spencer as he left the room and headed down the hallway towards the bathroom. He really didn't want his boyfriend to worry; this was his problem to deal with, not Spencer's. He could manage on his own.

Or could he? That was a question that he asked himself more and more frequently, he thought as he locked the door behind him and slumped against the marble counter top. It was getting harder and harder to cope with all the problems that seemed to be rushing in his direction.

At least he didn't have to worry about his son, Aaron thought with a sigh. Jack seemed to be adjusting well to life without his mother, even though he was really too young to understand the consequences of all that had happened. But he was doing well, given the circumstances.

No, it was his father who was having a hard time adjusting. But then, there was so much more to his life than there was to Jack's. Sometimes he wished that he could simplify everything, that he could be as young and carefree as his child was.

If only that were possible, he thought, looking up at his haggard reflection in the mirror. If only he could go back to the point before all of this had happened, when he had a burgeoning relationship with Spencer and Foyet hadn't come barreling into his life.

His experience with Foyet was starting to affect his work; he had always been silent a good deal of the time, but those silences were becoming more and more pronounced, and they were starting to be noticed. Was his team doubting his leadership after all that had happened?

He had thought that he could handle going back to work, that it was one of the things that could keep him grounded while he was still trying to patch his life together after losing so much. But maybe that had been a mistake. Maybe he should have taken more time off.

At least his personal life seemed to be on an even keel -- though his frequent nightmares might even be affecting that side of his life. How could Spencer want to be with someone who wouldn't make love with him? How could he expect his boyfriend to understand how he felt?

Of course, Spencer had been through his own personal hell with Hankel. But that had been so different from what he himself had gone through; even though his boyfriend could sympathize with him, Spencer couldn't fully understand the feelings that he was trying to sort out.

How many times had he looked at Spencer in the past weeks and expected to see some reproach hidden in those beautiful dark eyes? How many times had he avoided looking at the man he loved because he was afraid of just that?

Aaron sighed, closing his eyes tightly and gripping the edge of the counter. There hadn't been reproach in those eyes when Spencer had looked at him a few moments ago. Only love and comfort -- a comfort that he'd been too proud and stupid to reach out for.

No, he'd opted for silence instead, turning his back on Spencer and very possibly making his young lover think that he wasn't wanted or needed, that his presence here was merely for show and not because Aaron genuinely needed to have him near.

Spencer had endured those silences; he'd been a guardian angel, always here when he was needed, always holding out a hand to pull him into a loving embrace. But would he always be here, especially if he was continually pushed away?

Of course he wouldn't, Aaron told himself, looking back up into the mirror. His countenance was haunted; he looked like a ghostly shadow of himself, all of his doubts and fears coming to the surface now, in the dead of night, when he was standing here alone behind a locked door.

He shouldn't be here. He should be in his bedroom, in Spencer's comforting embrace, holding the man he loved close against him and taking solace from the knowledge that he was loved, that he was wanted, and that he had an angel who would be there through all of his silences.

The reflection he was looking at symbolized the man he had become since Foyet's attack, the man he would always be unless he left himself accept the love and comfort that his angel was offering him. The man he would never move away from if he didn't allow himself to let go of the past.

He lifted a hand, surprised to find that his fist was clenched. What had he been planning to do -- smash the mirror? Get rid of the reflection for good by destroying the instrument that gave him a merciless image of who and what he was in danger of turning into?

Deliberately, he laid his hand flat on the counter, taking a deep breath. What was he doing, standing in here alone? He should go back to his bedroom, curl up under the covers with Spencer, and thank whatever deities existed that he had such an angel to help him through.

But there was one other thing he had to do first. Slowly and silently opening the bathroom door, Aaron moved quietly down the hallway to his son's room, opening the door and looking in at his sleeping child, the other angel in his life.

Jack lay under the covers, his blond hair obscuring part of his face, one thumb securely tucked into his mouth. Aaron couldn't help but smile at that; he would outgrow sucking his thumb at some point, but for now, it didn't seem like a fault. It looked adorable.

In spite of all the misfortunes that had befallen him, he was lucky, and he knew it. He had two angels who would always be there for him, through all of his silences; he could easily have been silenced forever, and he was thankful that he hadn't been.

He needed to concentrate on taking small steps forward, one at a time. On making those silences less and less; on communicating his feelings more with Spencer, and on keeping his team -- and himself -- together at work. Small steps would eventually turn into bigger ones.

The first step forward in his personal life would be having Spencer move in with him. He meant to talk to his boyfriend about that soon; there was nothing standing in their way, and he wanted to fill this house with love and laughter again. He was tired of the darkness.

And he was tired of the silences. He wanted to be able to open up to someone again, to go back to the person he'd been before his marital problems had started, long before the entire mess with Foyet had begun. He wanted to be the person Spencer deserved to have him be.

He knew all too well that he could never go back; the past was behind him, and he had to build a future on what he had in the here and now. But as long as he had an angel like Spencer by his side, he could do that. He could walk into the future with his head held high.

Going back down the hallway, he entered the bedroom quietly, wondering if Spencer would be sleeping. But the moment he was at the door, he could tell that his boyfriend was wide awake; Spencer's breathing was quick and anticipatory, rather than slow and relaxed.

Moving to the bed, he sat down, then turned to see Spencer holding out his arms, not saying a word, just sitting there quietly and patiently and waiting for him. He had never been so glad for a refuge, never so ready to take the comfort that was being offered to him.

Wordlessly, he curled into his lover's arms, never more grateful for the love and comfort they provided. This was a place where he could be silent, a place where those silences could be filled by a love that didn't require words, a love that spoke in its own quiet language.

His angels would always be with him, through all of his silences when he couldn't express himself, Aaron thought as he closed his eyes and let himself relax in Spencer's comforting embrace. And hopefully, with time, those silences would shorten until they ceased to exist.

***