Dancing In The Morgue - Chapter 11

Monsters

Behind every man now alive stand 30 ghosts, for that is the ratio by which the dead outnumber the living.

- Arthur C. Clarke

Spencer Reid was, yet again, having a nightmare. He has had them ever since he was a kid, but they've gotten worse ever since he joined the Behavioral Analysis Unit. His nightmares were often about his job, the dead bodies he'd see, the perverted rapists, abductors, serial killers he had to carefully analyze. But he also had nightmares about his mother, his schizophrenic mother whom he had left in a sanitarium back in his hometown in Las Vegas, Nevada.

Derek Morgan had once told him that he too had nightmares about their job. He saw the eyes wide open of one of the first murder victims he had seen. He also confessed to Reid that nightmare would haunt while wide awake. Hotchner and Gideon, they too have had nightmares. And, at some point, Prentiss also confessed she would sometimes wish for the job not to haunt her in her sleep. He never talked to JJ or Garcia about it, but he was pretty sure they had them, too. After all, they were both sweet girls. JJ surely joined the FBI in search for something that would make her feel useful, and catching criminals sure made her feel that. Garcia, on the other hand, joined the FBI because she couldn't get into Medical school. Being a specialized technician with the BAU made her feel like she was saving lives, although in a completely different way.

Spencer knew everyone in the team had its fair share of bad dreams about their job. After all, it was stressful, bloody, nerve-wracking and, most of all, their job often required them to dig in the depths of an ill mind. Psychosis, paranoia, schizophrenia... You name it, the number of UnSubs who were mentally ill is never-ending. And Spencer, for some reason, could relate to those people. He was afraid of his own mind. That very mind that was also capable of memorizing anything he lays eyes on, that very mind with an IQ of one hundred and eighty-seven points, that very mind that allowed him to be the youngest member ever to join the Behavioral Analysis Unit, in the FBI. He was afraid of that mind. Not only because of his mother's schizophrenia, what he had been through in his childhood and teenage years: the several abuse from his school-mates who didn't understand him and were, in a way, jealous of his academic accomplishments. Not only that made Spencer Reid afraid of his own mind. Those past experiences only made him afraid of the other people, not of himself. He was afraid of both: himself and others. He was afraid of feelings, mostly. He used his intellect as a mask to cover these insecurities and fears. He wanted to be seen as Doctor Reid, the boy genius who knows everything about everything. The cute geek who doesn't date because he's too shy to ask women out. But there was a profound battle to him. He fought it everyday, within himself.

Spencer's nightmare that night, however, wasn't like the others. It wasn't about his mother or his job as a Federal Agent. It was about Emily Bronson. In his dream, him and Emily were wandering on the woods. It was cold and dark and they didn't know what they were doing there. They were not afraid, though, they were merely walking side by side, not looking at each other or talking to each other. She was wearing a white dress and looked so innocent, irradiating a light from the inside he had never seen before. Everything was calm and quiet, not a single sound other than the wind softly making the leaves tremble. All was peaceful. A peace Spencer had never experienced in real life. He liked it. He liked it, despite the fact that there weren't any books around and even though he was lost in the woods with a girl he barely knew. She seemed to like it, because she was smiling. A simple smile, that filled his heart better than anything good he had ever experienced. Better than having his favorite meal, better than solving a case, better than receiving a nice gift. Those were the best two minutes of his life. That peace and calm... That feeling of not being alone, even though he only had one person by his side who wouldn't even talk.

But then the happiness vanished when Emily suddenly stopped walking and firmly grabbed onto his wrist. He looked at her. And the smile was no longer in her lips. She looked so sad, now. And then she said words that made him cry. And then she left.

The bad thing about an eidetic memory is: he can remember every single word of what she said, no matter how much he tries to forget it.

Spencer woke up sweating. It wasn't a typical nightmare with monsters and ghosts. It was a nightmare with his monsters and ghosts.

Stephen King wrote: Monsters are real, and ghosts are real, too. They live inside us and, sometimes, they win.
And he was right.

One's inner ghosts and monsters can be far more dangerous than a psychopath killer, a man with a sharp knife or a betrayed woman with both: a psychopathic disorder and a knife, that is.

And Reid knew that better than anyone else. However, he had never shared that with anyone before. Mostly because he never met anyone who he could truly talk to about that. His co-workers were his best friends and he loved all of them, but could they be trusted Spencer Reid's darkest secrets?

His mother was the person he loved the most in the world, but he hadn't seen her in a long long time. He wrote her letters everyday, but he couldn't be sure if she even read them or if anyone else read them aloud for her. Therefore, he didn't feel safe telling his mom in his letters about how he truly felt. He felt lonely, most of all. Because no-one knew what it was like. Except for Emily Bronson. She knows.

Maybe he could talk to her about that. Maybe she would tell him she feels the exact same way. Maybe she would truly understand. Maybe she would share some of her stories, to make him feel like he wasn't the only one. But how would he know? How could he be sure that Emily Bronson was the right person for him to confide? He had been saving those fears inside for so long, he couldn't stand them anymore. They had to come out. He had to tell someone.

He didn't want to talk to a psychiatrist, they wouldn't understand. They might know a lot about how the human brain works, but they've never been through what he has been through. They'd say they understood, but did they, really?

Spencer didn't want to tell them. He wanted to tell Emily. He wanted to share with her. Because he felt attracted to her insanity.

Everyone's insane in their own ways. And Emily sure had a very personal way of being insane. And he wanted her. He wanted her so bad!

They were supposed to meet to talk about her mother's death. They were supposed to meet that afternoon. He was supposed to go to her place. Maybe he could tell her about his nightmares, then. If she was home alone, that is.

He was determined to tell her.
The same way Emily was determined to act as bubbly as she possibly could. She was determined to make him think she was just like any other twenty-two year-old girl. She wanted him to think she was normal, rather than a psychologically disturbed person. Truth is, she wanted to seduce him. But she did not want to feel guilty about it. Maybe a one-night stand would be nice, just for the fun of it. No feelings involved. But she couldn't think of him without her heart to slow down. It would slow down to the point of almost stopping. Because he made her feel peaceful. She saw right through him, she saw his inner monsters and ghosts and that made her feel calm.

For whatever sick reason, she desired him so bad, she wanted his solitude and fear and anger and deep sadness inside of her. But these thoughts made her feel guilty because, 0n the inside, she liked him. And she didn't want to use him like that, no.

Emily too fought inner battles everyday, but the one regarding Spencer Reid was, perhaps, the most excruciating one.