Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5252690.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Criminal_Minds, X-Men_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Remy_LeBeau/Spencer_Reid
  Character:
      Remy_LeBeau, Spencer_Reid, The_BAU_Team, X-Men_(Team), Original
      Characters
  Additional Tags:
      Witness_Protection, Secret_Past, Secret_Relationship, Past_Child_Abuse,
      Kidnapping, Childhood_Friends, Childhood_Memories, Childhood_Trauma,
      Friends_to_Lovers, Trigger_warning:_slightly_graphic_child_abuse
  Series:
      Part 19 of A_Collection_of_Ideas
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-11-21 Words: 3567
****** Witness Protection ******
by SpencerRemyLvr
Summary
     Who was Spencer before he came to the Bureau? What kind of life did
     he really live?
Notes
     This is something OLD I found on my computer. Now, I have a small
     feeling that there's a chance I might've stolen a bit from this to
     use in a different story. If that's so, and you recognize a little
     bit, sorry :P Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this :D
Silence fell over the dining room like a thick blanket. It was smothering; the
little boy felt as if he couldn’t breathe. His wide eyes were drawn inexorably
from the broken bowl on the ground, up toward the man who was glaring furiously
at him. The chili that had been in the bowl now spread over the floor, touching
the young boy’s toes, hot but not hot enough to burn, thankfully. He couldn’t
move, couldn’t breathe, could only stare and wait for the fury he knew was
coming.
The man rose from his chair at the table. When the older boy made to move, the
man shot him a furious look and snapped “Do not move.”
“It was an accident, Dad.” The older boy insisted. He kept to his chair,
though. They both knew the consequences of disobedience. Things could take a
turn for the worse very quickly.
Dad shot him a menacing look. “Sit there and keep your mouth shut or you’ll
both get it and his will be double. Are we clear?” he snarled. No sound came
from the older boy. He just nodded. Satisfied he was being obeyed, Dad turned
to look at the young boy who was now trembling. “Pick up the pieces. Each one.”
The little boy rushed to obey. He trembled, knowing this wasn’t going to be his
only punishment. He couldn’t be so lucky. His hands shook so hard he almost
couldn’t pick them up, but he finally managed to get each broken shard into the
garbage can. Then he stood, waiting for what came next. He didn’t have long to
wait. Dad came around the table, wrapping a fist in his hair. The little boy
made not a sound despite the pain that sprang to life. When he was forced to
the ground he still kept silent. Speaking always made it worse.
Dad forced his face down into the spilled chili, holding him there. “Lick it
up. All of it. Or I swear to God I’ll paddle you until you can’t sit for the
next two weeks.”
With silent tears streaming down his cheeks, the little boy obeyed. What other
choice did he have? Dad’s hand was in his hair, forcing him against the floor,
holding him there as he was forced to clean the mess like a dog. All the while
his tears flowed silently. When would this hell end?
===============================================================================
The day had been way, way too long. Leaning his head back against the wall,
Spencer let his eyes close, feeling the peace on the jet soothe him down. This
case had been a long and difficult one and he, as well as the rest of the team,
was very ready to head home. It was soothing to listen to the soft turn of a
page as David Rossi read his book, or the sound of Emily’s even breathing as
she slept away on the couch. Aaron was also asleep, or at the least he was
resting his eyes. Derek was in his seat with his headphones on, same as always,
a soft sort of hum coming from his direction being the only sound caught from
those headphones.
Someone moved right near Spencer and he opened his eyes to see JJ standing by
him, a mug in each hand. “You looked like you could use this. It’s tea, to
settle down with.” Her smile was sweet and motherly, a look he was well used to
from her. Instinctively Spencer curled his legs up so that there was room for
her on the couch. He reached up and took the mug from her, giving her a smile
in return. “Thank you.”
“You doing okay, Spence?” JJ settled down by him, curling her legs up and
turning toward him. “You looked, I don’t know…you’ve been a little off the past
few days.”
It was the truth. He hadn’t been himself at all these past few days and he knew
it. The only explanation he could offer was “Cases like this, they always
bother me more than others, you know?”
Her look turned understanding. “I do. It’s always harder when it’s children.”
Little boys between the ages of five and seven had been taken throughout the
city of Denver, Colorado. The boys had all been held hostage for three days.
All the boys showed signs of being sodomized as well as assaulted repeatedly
during their captivity. The body count had been up to five when the BAU had
been brought in. One more boy had died, but they had managed to save the last
one. He’d been with the Unsub for two days when the team finally managed to
track the man down. Though it had been touch and go at the house for a bit,
with the man using the boy as a shield, eventually they had talked him down and
the arrest had been made.
His team had been slightly surprised when Spencer had offered to be the one to
speak with the boy at the hospital. He’d done so privately—even the boy’s
mother had left the room, at her son’s request. Allan was seven years old. It
made Spencer’s heart ache to think of the things the boy was going to live with
for the rest of his life.
JJ’s hand brushed against his knee, reminding Spencer where he was once more.
He blinked a few times, flushing just a little. “Sorry.” He apologized before
taking a sip of his tea.
“You know, Spence, we saved that last boy. Allan is alive. His mom’s going to
get him help and he’s going to be okay from this, eventually.” She put her hand
back by his knee and squeezed it lightly. “Those are the things we have to
remember. We saved him and now, now he can heal.”
Eyes drifting down to his cup, Spencer spoke without thought. “Can he?” The
words were soft, yet packed with emotion. “Can anyone ever heal from something
like this? Do those scars ever actually go away? Or is that just another lie we
tell ourselves to make it all seem that much easier?” Abruptly he cut himself
off and shook his head. His eyes, when they lifted to JJ, carried a more
cynical expression than she’d ever seen on her young friend. “I’ll be okay, JJ.
I think I’m just tired.” The hint in those words was obvious, made more so by
the way he adjusted himself so that he was a little more curled into the couch.
JJ caught the hint and, though she gave him a strange look, she rose. Though
she couldn’t say why, she ran a hand over his hair when she passed him, almost
like she often did with Henry.
For the rest of the ride home, Spencer stayed quietly on the couch, his
thoughts turned inward. When they arrived, he gratefully accepted the ride home
that Derek offered him. That man filled the ride with laughter and conversation
that had Spencer relaxing a little. By the time he reached his apartment, some
of the tension was gone from his shoulders. He couldn’t help but smile at Derek
while climbing from the car. “Thanks, Morgan.” With a look, he let Derek know
that he was thanking him for more than the ride home.
“Anytime, pretty boy.” Derek reassured him. “Now, go get some of your precious
beauty sleep. And don’t stay up late reading!”
Laughing, Spencer shook his head, making his way away from the car. Derek
really was a one in a million kind of friend. He was the kind of friend a
person always knew they could count on. Whether it was for a smile, a laugh,
someone to vent to, or someone to have your back—he was there.
After checking his mailbox and putting his mail into his messenger bag, Spencer
made his way up the stairs to his floor, pulling his keys out as he moved. It
was one in the morning, so no one was out as he unlocked the locks on his door
and let himself in. As soon as he got in the door, he shut it behind him and
turned to the security panel, checking the display before entering the code.
Then, as he did every time he came home, he walked his apartment, checking each
room as he went—‘clearing’ the apartment. Only when he was sure it was secure
did he return and lock the door as well as arm the system.
A sigh slipped out when he took his bag off and set it down on his couch. Man,
it was good to be home. Good to be out of a hotel and away from death, just for
a little while. Here where he was alone, he indulged himself, going to his
kitchen and taking out a bottle of wine. He opened the bottle first and then
took it and a glass back to his bedroom with him, stopping along the way to
grab his mail from his bag. Once back there he set his items on his nightstand
before changing out of his work clothes and into a pair of sweatpants and an
oversized t-shirt. He tossed his clothes into the laundry basket and took his
gun over to the gun safe, locking it away.
Now that he was comfortable, he climbed right into bed, adjusting the pillows
so that he could sit propped up against the headboard. Then he poured himself
his first glass of wine and picked up the first letter in his stack of mail.
His eyes scanned quickly over the familiar scrawl on the outside of the
envelope; already he was smiling at it. When he opened the letter, it took his
brain nothing to read the words there and decipher the code they were written
in so that he could real the real message hidden underneath.
Spencer,
I thought of you today when I was at a meeting. Yes, I actually attended one of
their meetings. Shocking, I know. Anyways, I find that happening constantly. My
thinking of you, that is, not me attending meetings. You’re never far from my
thoughts. But I was stuck sitting in meetings today and they were discussing
something that they’d intercepted from their Greatest Rival. Of course, it’s
written in code. However, it looks to be some kind of mathematical code. I
looked at it and all I could picture in my mind was the look you would have on
your face as you set to solve the puzzle. That little light in your eyes, the
way that you smile to yourself when you really get into your work, or frown
when something isn’t matching up right. I could see that look of excitement
when you finally crack the puzzle you’re working. All I could see was you,
Spencer. Always you.
There are some days I know that we made the right choice, separating like this.
It’s safer this way and it’s more practical. Other days, I can’t help but hate
it. I never thought it would take us this long. I thought that, by now, we
would have been able to do something. I was always convinced that we would be
able to solve this, you and I. Yet time goes by, and more time, and still more
time, and then I wake up and I look around and realize that it’s not just days
that have gone, not just months, but years. Years I have missed out on being
with you. Years we have been forced to stay apart.
We are safe this way, I know. You are safe. To me, nothing is more important
than that. Still, I wonder some days, what kind of life are we leading? Safe,
yes. Happy…not truly. How can I ever be happy when I’m here and you’re there?
How can I be happy when I climb into my cold bed each night and wake up alone
every morning? How can I be truly and completely happy when you are not here by
my side to share in my joys with me? To hold my hand through the sorrows?
My heart aches with missing you this night, Spencer. I apologize for the sad
note to this letter. I didn’t set out to write it this way. Things just seem
harder lately. The days longer and the nights colder. My arms feel empty; they
ache to hold you. It has been six months since I saw you last and that is far,
far too long. Maybe that’s why I’m so melancholy. Maybe it’s because my heart
is craving to see you, my hands aching to reach out and touch your skin or feel
that silky hair I so love to play with. My body is filled with longing for your
tender touch.
Before I embarrass myself by giving in to the tears blurring my eyes and they
fall to mar this page, I’m going to end this. Until the next letter, know that
you are in my thoughts, my heart, as you always have been and always will be.
I love you
Remy
Tears slid down Spencer’s cheeks silently. Looking at the page in front of him,
he let out a trembling little breath. “I love you too.” He whispered.
===============================================================================
When Scott Summers walked into his office first thing that morning, it didn’t
surprise him in the least to find the resident Cajun leaning on the wall by the
open window, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a cup of coffee cradled in his
hands. This was a morning ritual for the two that neither ever spoke of to
anyone else. Not even the Professor knew of their morning meetings. Living
around telepaths, Scott was pretty adept at shielding his thoughts and a little
private training from Remy had helped make him even more adept. There was no
one who had shields as strong as Remy did.
Scott shut the door behind him, shuffling the mail as he walked. “Morning,
Rems.”
“Bonjour, mon ami.” With a flick of his fingers, Remy sent his cigarette flying
out the window to explode with a small pop in the air. The man made his way
over to his favorite chair on the other side of Scott’s desk and settled
himself down into it at the same time that Scott sat in his own chair behind
the desk. The older man said nothing else yet, knowing what it was Remy was
waiting for. There, almost at the bottom of the stack, Scott found it. Remy’s
letter. He pulled it out and tossed it to Remy, who caught it easily.
Remy set his mug down on the coaster on the desk that Scott kept just for him
and then started to open his letter. He was already smiling before he even got
it fully open. With a skill born of practice, he easily deciphered the code
there as he read through one of the letters that made his life bearable.
Remy,
Do you have any idea what it does to my heart to read letters like the one I
just got from you? I’m sitting here in my bed at almost one thirty in the
morning, crying into my glass of very good wine because of the words you wrote.
It’s taking everything I have not to simply pack up my things, turn in my
resignation, and race to you. I love my job and I love the people that I work
with, but I would leave them all in a heartbeat to come and be with you.
I think of you too, my love. Constantly. You are never far from my thoughts.
Sometimes I get a memory of you so strong that it makes me ache with need for
you. It’s gotten to where I can’t even accept Jennifer’s invitations to come to
her house to eat or visit because I can’t stand being around Will. Every time
he speaks with that Louisiana drawl, I hear you. I eat the food he makes for
them and I can’t help but remember the countless times you’ve cooked for me.
They tease me about being so skinny and I hear your voice telling me that
you’re going to put weight on me one of these days. I hear him call her his
love with those whispered French words and I want to cry, I ache so much to
hear those from you. To feel you wrap your arms around me and hold me so close
the way that you do, your breath warm on my neck while you whisper those words
that always warm me from the inside out. To see you, hear you, smell you, feel
you, it’s all I want. You’re like a drug for me that I can never get enough of.
I know that you’re right and I know that what we’re doing is right. We are
safer this way. It’ll be harder for us to be found this way, apart like this,
and we can accomplish so much more working two fronts at once instead of
confining our efforts to one or the other. I know, in my head, that this is
logical. Every time we’ve been found, we’ve either been together or recently
been together. As I said, my head knows this. My heart, though? Not so much. My
heart wants only to be with you.
You’re not the only one feeling melancholy. I just got home from the missing
children’s case in Denver, Colorado. Those poor children, Remy. So many lost
and only one did we manage to save, yet what kind of life did we save him for?
Everyone talks about his healing now. They talk about how he’s going to be okay
after counseling and time. Maybe he will be. I hope he will. Maybe knowing that
the man that did this is rotting in jail will give him the ability to find some
closure. I pray hard that this is true. But I can’t help but feel angry when
people speak as if everything is magically going to be okay for him now. It
won’t. The terror and shame will take time to fade for him. The road ahead is a
long and painful one and I ache to see such a sweet child have to go through
that.
I know this letter isn’t long, but you’re not the only one fighting tears. I’m
going to put this letter aside to send in the morning and then I’m going to
curl up here in my empty bed, with only your shirt to cuddle against, though
it’s long since lost the scent of you, and wish with everything I have that you
could be here.
I love you
Spencer
For a long minute Remy just stared at the words on the page, not even realizing
as they started to blur before him. In his mind he could clearly see Spencer
lying on that spacious bed of his, curled up in Remy’s shirt, crying quietly to
himself. “Merde.” He cursed quietly to himself. One hand came up to swipe at
his eyes, trying to take away the tears that seemed to want to keep coming.
Hands shaking only slightly, he folded the letter up, putting it back in the
envelope before putting it into one of the pockets on his trench. He had to
wipe at his face again as a few more tears leaked out. He gave a watery chuckle
as he looked up at Scott. “Je suis désolé, Scotty.”
“It’s fine.” Scott reassured him softly. “Is he okay?”
Scott was the only person in Remy’s life that knew the truth. Knew who he
really was, what had happened to him, and who Spencer was. With no one else did
Remy or Spencer trust their secret. Remy had been forced to trust someone when
he came here. After much debate between Remy and Spencer, the two had decided
on Scott. It had been the best decision either one of them had ever made. He
was their greatest ally in this and had quickly become one of their closest
friends.
As he picked his cup back up, another sigh slid from Remy. “Oui. Lonely, y’
know? We never thought it’d take dis long. Don’t know how much longer we can do
dis, Scotty. It’s getting so hard.” He made a frustrated sound. With an angry
swipe, he cleaned the last of the tears from his face. “Merde, it’s like dis
t’ing is just hanging over us. We want to pretend it aint dere, but it always
is. And until it’s gone, t’ings aint gonna be normal. Just wanna live, cher.
Wake up to him and fall asleep with him dere. Just live as us, oui? No more
fear, no more lies. Just Remy and Spencer, de way it’s supposed to be.”
“We’ll get him, Remy.” The low promise from Scott was packed with
determination. “I swear. I won’t stop until I help you two get him. Then you
two can make up for lost time with one another.”
Remy drummed up a shadow of his smile. “Dieu, dat sounds nice. One day, yeah?
One day.” And it was that hope for ‘one day’ that kept him going. He would hold
on because, one day, they would have their dream. He had to believe that. If he
didn’t, he might go mad.
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