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Reid doesn't reach out to Elle after she leaves.
A big part of him wants to, but no matter how much he stared at her contact information or typed out messages, he knew he could never send them. He didn't know what he could say, didn't know how to apologise for his lack of tact in that motel room. He still wonders if he had found a better thing to say then maybe things wouldn't have ended the way they had.
His decision changes after Hankle.
That night he comes home to an empty apartment, still feeling the sting in his foot with every step. Still feeling hands on his chest performing CPR. There's still drugs in his system, he knows it, and the vials he stole from Tobias feel heavy in his pocket. He puts them on his kitchen counter and stares at them. Then he pulls out his phone.
I get it now.
There's no winning.
I'm sorry I didn't get it before.
The words make his hands shake and he looks back to the vials. He's starting to feel his breath come out in shorter pants and he knows it's just a panic attack, but it feels like dying. Again. He keeps his eyes open, like he's still staring down the barrel of a gun slowly calculating his chances of losing each time the trigger gets pulled. His hand clutches the counter's edge and he starts bending into himself but then there's a ringing sound coming from his other hand that makes him jump.
A few blinks and his vision is clearing, and he sees something he's never expected. Elle is calling.
He thumbs the answer button, feeling breathless. He brings it to his ear, half expecting it to not be really her, perhaps a butt dial. Or he's finally seeing things.
“Reid?”
His breathing is still shallow and coming in short gasps and he can't make his mouth form words. It's annoying and embarrassing when that happens and he almost wishes he didn't pick up. Almost. But even just knowing there's someone else there, someone he wants there, distracts him from the feeling of hands. Hands all over, rolling up his sleeve, taking off his sock, pushing him to dig his own grave.
“Breath, Reid.” She's speaking to him in a calming tone and he kind of hates that she has to. He should have texted someone else, anyone from the team at least knows what happened to him. But– He didn't want to talk to any of them. “It's okay. You're safe.”
It takes a few more minutes for his breathing to come back to him, and while he feels shaky he tries not to let it show
“Elle. I'm sorry for this, we haven't spoken in 3 months and 14 days and I really didn't mean for you to have to talk me through this. I promise that wasn't my intention I just–”
“Reid.” She cuts him off. She's serious, and he thinks maybe worried, when she continues. It's not a question. “What happened.”
He opens his mouth, and then stops. Not sure what he's allowed to tell her. Not sure what he wants to reveal. But then… she's completely disconnected from all this now. No longer an FBI agent and not around to change anything. There's a freedom to it, he realises. Maybe this is why having friends outside the job is something you're supposed to do.
Although, he doesn't really know if they count as friends anymore. He thinks they used to, but he doesn't know how the rules work for this. He knows he needs to talk about it with someone, and knows he can't go to the team. Even though they saw a lot of what happened, he didn't feel like he could reveal anything else. It would probably end up like what happened to Elle, where no one talks about it until it's already too late. He doesn't want to find out what too late would look like on him.
Finally, he starts. “I was kidnapped.”
Elle exhales over the line and he can almost picture her face, but then it shatters when he starts wondering if she changed her hair again.
“I was held for two days but– I mean, it was bad but that's not– I need…” He didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. But it felt important, like how he couldn't break eye contact with the vials on the counter. He wants to walk away, to sit down and get off his throbbing foot but he can’t. “I think I need help.”
It’s silent on the line and he almost holds his breath, hoping she won’t leave him there but knowing she has every right to. He wasn't exactly much help when she needed it, he regrets his words to her every day. But she’s soft, genuine. “What can I do, Reid?”
“I don't know but…” Suddenly panicked, “You can't tell anyone about this. They can't know what he–”
“Okay, I won't tell, Reid. Say it.”
“He drugged me.” Reid paused, “Dilaudid. It was… Tobias Hankle had DID, he thought it would help me deal with the torture from his alters. He was trying to help me.”
“That's not your fault.” She starts, but he can't let her continue. Can't let her absolve him of this without knowing the whole story.
“It did help, Elle. It helped.” He put his head in his hands, finally looking aways from the vials. Then he spoke softer, ashamed. “Then I asked for a moment alone with the body and I stole his supply.”
“What?” Elles voice matched his volume.
Reid can't say anything. His heart is hammering so hard in his chest he's sure Elle can hear it down the line. He feels weak saying it like that, and it tastes vile in his mouth.
Elle seems to understand he won't say more about it, instead asking. “Are you alone?”
“Yeah.” The change in topic snaps him out of it, and he looks around himself like he needs to check he's telling the truth. “Yeah, I just got home.”
“Have you used?”
It freezes him entirely, “W-What?”
“Reid, have you used.” She's a little more forceful, but he somehow doesn't feel like he's being interrogated.
“No. Not yet. I'm still… feeling the effects from before.” He can't say it again, but she knows what he means.
“That's good.” Her voice she's using sounds familiar. Usually he'd be against being talked to like a victim on the job, but he felt kind of comforted by it. By her. “Where are they?”
He blinks, and then looks back at them, they feel bigger than they are. “I put them on the counter.”
Elle hums. “You still live in the same place?”
“Yeah.” He doesn't know where she's going with this, but he liked that it seemed like she had a plan. He hadn't felt like things made sense since before the case started. He really wanted to get that security back.
“I'm two hours away from you. I can come to help, but only if you don't take anything. I'm serious, Reid.” She takes a breath, and she loses the forceful tone she had started taking on halfway through talking. “Don't.”
He hadn't expected this, it wasn't the reason he texted her. He doesn't quite know what it was he wanted from her, or what he was planning to do with his stolen supply, but he hadn't felt calm like this in a while. Her plan made sense. It felt safe. “I won't.”
And he meant it.