Light Of My Life

Colors Of The Body

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Words: 1,030

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Devyn's released from the hospital the next day. They're both grateful for that. Neither of them like hospitals and they've been spending so much time there lately. It's ridiculous, honestly.

Devyn tells Spencer to thank the team for her. And to apologize because she doesn't want to see anyone. He tells her it's unnecessary but she insists.

She doesn't ask about her father until the day after they're home. Spencer had been relieved by that at first, she didn't need to think about any of that, she needed to focus on healing. But then the question slips past her lips while they're sitting over their uneaten breakfast.

He was shot and killed. Spencer tells her simply. Devyn simply nodded, her face blank. She always does that and he hates it. She feels emotions so deeply but she so good at shoving them down. She pushes them deeper and deeper inside of herself. The weight builds and it builds and it affects her so much. He hates seeing her cry, but sometimes he wishes she would do it more.

She pulls out her journal on the third day. Spencer used to catch sight of the book peeking out of her bag or resting on her nightstand early on in their relationship. One day he'd asked what it was and she'd told him that it was her thoughts. The bad ones. He never looked further, never pushed her into talking about it. Only let her know that he was there if she wanted someone to listen to those thoughts.

And she had. After becoming more comfortable with him, after sharing more about herself. She'd stopped writing in it so much. She still did occasionally. After getting shot and losing the baby. When there was a bad call she'd write it down before talking to him. She had said it helped to sort her thoughts before speaking them aloud.

But now she's just writing and not talking.

Spencer doesn't leave her side whenever he can help it. He brings her food, hot drinks, cold drinks. Whatever he can think of. She always accepts his offerings with a small smile but she doesn't really eat much. He can understand that. It's only been a few days, she just needs a little time.

The others always check in with him once a day. He's sure they're only not doing it more as to not overwhelm the couple. Spencer's grateful and he's sure to tell Devyn that they're there for them. That they hope she's feeling better.

Devyn doesn't sleep. She dozes occasionally but never sleeps. Spencer doesn't either. They lie awake at night, silent. She still hasn't talked to him. And she still hasn't cried.

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Spencer's finally gone to sleep. Devyn lies in bed watching him for...a while. Could be minutes, could be hours. She's not sure. She's to scared to move, afraid to wake him. He hasn't been sleeping lately either. She's not sure if he's just staying awake for her or if he can't sleep. She doesn't know because she hasn't asked.

Her bladder wins in the end. Devyn carefully slides from the bed, moving as little as possible. Both in an attempt to not wake Spencer and not to aggravate her wounds.

The bathroom floor is cold below her feet, Devyn grits her teeth and slowly closes the door behind her with a soft click.

She washes her hands when finished, running them through her hair without drying them. The cut on her cheek is closed but the one on her lip keeps coming back open. The bruise around her eye is lightening, the edges turning yellow. The swelling is gone, at least.

Gritting her teeth, Devyn holds her breath while carefully lifting her shirt over her head. It's tricky but she manages and the cloth is soon falling to the floor.

She hesitates then, her hand reaching out to hold the edge of the sink. Her gaze stares down at the porcelain counter before slowly lifting to the mirror. Grimacing at her reflection, Devyn closes her eyes tightly. Her torso is littered with bruises, ranging in colors from Purple, blue, green, and yellow. She's seen her fair share of bruises, of injuries in her life, but it still amazes her how colorful a person can be.

Lost in her mind, Devyn doesn't hear the soft knock at the door a moment later. Nor does she hear it slowly opening. Only does she know someone else is with her when a light touch is applied to her shoulder.

Flinching, Devyn's eyes snap open with a quiet gasp.

Spencer pulls his hand away as if he was burned, his eyes wide and apologetic. "Sorry. I called your name, you didn't answer," He says with a weak gesture towards the door. "Was just getting worried."

"Sorry," Devyn mumbles before clearing her throat. "Must not have heard you." Spencer's eyes shift down from her face without his permission, gaze tracing the bruises lining her skin. He looks scared to touch her now. To even come any closer. Devyn hates it. "They're not so bad." She tries to force her lips up but the small smile falls quickly.

Spencer lifts his eyes to meet hers, his lips parting but no words leave his mouth. Reaching out, Devyn grasps onto his wrist and lifts his arm, resting his palm against her side gently. "It's okay," She assures him in a whisper, holding his hand in place. "It's okay."

Stepping forward, Devyn rests her forehead against Spencer's chest. She releases his hand when she feels him start to hold it up on his own. With a quiet sniff, Devyn wraps her arms around Spencer's back, careful of his sling. She clenches her eyes shut and bites her lip against the rising lump in her throat. But as soon as that first tear leaks from her eye, a sob follows.

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1. Aw, Devyn is really trapped inside her head, huh?
2. Also, I thought of a good scene for between the end of this chapter and the beginning of the next one. I haven't been able to write it yet and not sure I can before tomorrow morning so I'll probably make it one of those one shots.
3. I also kind of wish I had put some of these chapters together and made them longer, I'm sure the short ones are annoying.
4. Enough with the technical stuff. Devyn is struggling and Spencer is trying his best. I'm tired and can't think of more to say. 

Thanks for reading! What did you guys think of this chapter?

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