Title: Make Me A Believer
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: NC-17
Table: writers_choice
Prompt: #377, Belief
Author's Note: Mentiona of rape.
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.

***

"Relax and it'll go in easier."

"Most profilers think that stabbing is a substitute for the sex act. What would they think of this?"

"No," Aaron moaned, tossing from side to side in an effort to escape the memories that seemed to assail him from all directions. "No .... get away from me!" He raised both hands, lashing out with a feeble blow that didn't connect with anything.

His eyes flew open when someone seized his wrist; he sat up in bed, looking around wildly, expecting to see Foyet's grinning face hovering above him, his free hand moving to the scars that were now a permanent part of him, incised on his body forever.

"Aaron, it's okay." Spencer's voice. Hearing those words started to bring him out of the fog he was lost in; Spencer was here, sitting up in bed beside him, holding his wrist and sliding another arm carefully around his waist, pulling him close.

He drew a deep breath, then another. It was a dream; it wasn't real. Foyet was in the past, dead and buried. That monster couldn't threaten him any longer. He was safe, here with Spencer, and his son was asleep in his bedroom down the hall.

"It was just a dream," Spencer murmured into his ear, slowly releasing his wrist and letting his hand drop to the covers. Long fingers were stroking through his hair, comforting him; those soft words were ringing in his ears, his boyfriend's voice soft and loving.

Aaron nodded slowly, letting himself relax in Spencer's arms. Just a dream, he repeated to himself. Yet another one in an endless series of dreams that never seemed to stop, never let him have any respite from the demons that constantly crowded into his mind.

"You were dreaming about what he did to you again, werne't you?" Spencer's voice was soft, the worry in his tone evident. His arm tightened around Aaron's waist, pulling him closer as though the nearness of their bodies could chase the dream away into nothingness.

He nodded, unable to speak for the moment. When he finally did find his voice again, he had to clear his throat twice for them to come out as more than a hoarse croak. "I can't stop it, Spencer. It replays over and over in my head, like a movie that never ends."

"It won't last forever," Spencer told him, his tone soothing. "But you need to see a counselor, Aaron. You need to talk to somebody about what happened. Somebody other than me. As much as I love you and want to help, there's only so much I can do."

Spencer was right. He knew it. But the thought of talking to a stranger about what had been done to him .... Aaron shook his head, firmly and decisively. "No, Spencer. I can handle this on my own. I have to. I can't let what happened get back to Strauss."

He could feel rather than see Spencer nod; he knew that his lover agreed with him.

Strauss couldn't find out what had happened to him. If she knew that he'd been raped when Foyet had attacked him, she would insist that he step down, that he was no longer in any state to be unit chief. And that would mean the end of their team.

For him, it would be the end of everything. He couldn't let that happen; other than Spencer and his son, this job was the only thing he had left in his life to cling to. He couldn't lose his job, couldn't lose the team that he relied on so much.

He'd lost his belief in himself, in his own strength. It was the strength of his team, of his reliance on his job and the people around him, that kept him going. Without that, he would crumble into dust; he didn't want to think about what his life would be like without the comfort of the familiar.

Could he ever get that belief in himself back? Aaron wasn't sure; he could feel it slipping away more with each day that went by. He was hanging on by a thread, and the main reason that he hadn't disintegrated into nothingness already was the man who was here by his side.

He had never realized before just how strong Spencer Reid was. This young man had dealt with his own personal demons, and had come out on the other side of a long, dark tunnel, not unscathed, but definitely not defeated. Spencer had shown much more fortitude than he himself had.

Spencer would argue with that, and tell him that he'd been stronger than anyone had a right to expect him to be. But Aaron couldn't see it that way; all he saw was that he was falling apart, bit by bit, and that he was depending on Spencer to help him stay in one piece.

"I don't believe any more," he whispered, not realizing the words were out of his thoughts and spoken out loud for a few moments. Aaron raised his head from Spencer's shoulder, his haunted gaze meeting the younger man's, taking in the bewilderment in Spencer's eyes.

"Don't believe in what?" Spencer asked him, a frown furrowing his brow. "You don't believe that you can fight the dreams back any more? You can, Aaron. I'll help you. They're just dreams. They can't haunt you forever. Sooner or later, you'll put them to rest.

Aaron shook his head, feeling inexplicably frustrated. He couldn't expect Spencer to understand how he felt; it was ridiculous to expect his young lover to read his mind, to know how he was feeling. He wasn't quite sure that he understood it himself.

If his feelings were so complicated and tangled that he couldn't sort them out himself, how could he think that Spencer would be able to him? He couldn't put what he wanted to say into words; those feelings were a dark cloud that seemed to hover over his consciousness.

"I don't believe in myself any more," he finally managed to say, surprising himself with the admission.

Spencer was silent for several long moments; Aaron was sure that his lover didn't have anything to say in reply to those words. What could he say? Nothing would magically retore the belief in himself that he used to have. Nothing could bring that back.

He knew that Spencer believed in him; so did the rest of his team. And he desperately wanted to reach out for that belief, to grasp it and hold it close, to have it come flooding back him and to never lose it again. But he was afraid that he had strayed too far away to ever find it again.

What if he never could? The thought sent a cold chill down Aaron's spine; he shivered in Spencer's arms, unconsciously tightening his own arms around his boyfriend's waist. What if he could never believe in himself and his abilities again? What then?

That would not only impair his ability to lead the BAU, it would ensure that he would eventually have to leave the team -- and probably sooner rather than later. They couldn't function without a leader who could take charge and make the decisions that needed to be made.

What would happen if he could no longer fill that role? He didn't want to think about it. He loved this job; it had been such a big part of his life for so long that he couldn't imagine not having it any longer. Maybe it was a crutch for him, but it was one that he needed, now more than ever.

When Spencer finally did speak, his voice was soft and gentle, but his words belied that soft tone; they were firm and decisive, and Aaron couldn't help but believe in each one and cling to them, as though that soft voice was a life raft thrown to a drowning man.

"I believe in you, Aaron," he murmured, the words sounding to Aaron as though they were far away. He had to reach for them, pull them close to him and hold them near his heart. But somehow, he found them, his grasp closing around the words and holding on for dear life.

"I know you do," he managed to whisper, a lump rising his throat at his lover's words and feeling as though it was almost choking him. "But I need to believe in myself, Spencer. Help me. Make me a believer. Make me see that I can let myself believe again. I need that."

Spencer's arms tightened around him, holding him closer; when the young man spoke again, his tone was hushed, almost as though he was having a hard time getting the words out. "I'll try my best, Aaron. I'll try to make you a believer. I hope I can do that for you."

He wanted to assure Spencer that he could do anything, that he had faith in him. But the words stuck in his throat; all he could do was nod and close his eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted and wanting nothing more than to sink into what would hopefully be a deep, dreamless sleep.

If only Spencer's words could come true. He needed to believe in himself again.

He had to believe. For Spencer, for his son, and for his team. And most of all, for himself.

***