Patron Saint of Lost Causes

chapter 18: elastic heart

You did not break me
I'm still fighting for peace

Well, I've got thick skin and an elastic heart
But your blade, it might be too sharp
I'm like a rubber band until you pull too hard
But I may snap when I move fast
You won't see me fall apart
'Cause I've got an elastic heart

--"Elastic Heart" by Sia

At first he couldn't pinpoint where the sound was coming from, or even what it was. And he couldn't remember why he was sleeping on the floor. His blankets were tangled around him and the carpet was cold and rough against his skin. And the sound persisted.

Hotch raised himself up on his elbows, squinting into the darkness of his dorm room. His head ached and he winced at the repetitive sound- a soft, painful little whine. He felt sluggish and faintly sick to his stomach, shaken awake too soon, and all he wanted was to go back to sleep. But then it clicked.

He pushed himself up off the floor and sank down on the edge of the bed. "Spencer, hey, buddy, it's okay," he said sleepily. He rested his hand on Spencer's stomach. "Come on, kiddo, wake up."

Spencer curled away from him, pulling at the bedsheets. He was crying, his voice breaking from his throat in raspy sobs, and Hotch tugged him back towards him. "It's okay, Spencer, wake up, it's just a bad dream," he said, raising his voice a little louder.

Spencer's eyes snapped open and he flinched away from Hotch looming over him. He hastily switched on the lamp on his nightstand. "Spence, no, no, it's just me," he said as Spencer closed his eyes tight and covered his face with his hands. "You're okay. You're okay, buddy."

Spencer looked up at him, blinking hazily. "I had a bad dream," he whispered.

"I know," Hotch said, smoothing his hair back. "I know, buddy, I'm sorry. But you're safe, I swear."

Spencer struggled to push himself up, his thin arms visibly shaking with effort. "I don't...I don't remember what I was dreaming," he said, rubbing his eyes. "But it was...it was bad. It was bad, Hotch."

"Yeah, I know," Hotch said softly. He squeezed Spencer's upper arm gently, careful of his sunburn. "You need water or anything?"

Spencer nodded; Hotch picked up the cup on the nightstand and handed it to him. It was room temperature but Spencer drank it quickly, holding the cup in both hands. Hotch took it back when it was empty. "You want any more?" he asked. Spencer shook his head. "You wanna go back to sleep?"

"I wanna sleep with you," Spencer whispered.

"I know, kiddo, I'm right here," Hotch said. "I've been sleeping on the floor the whole time, you're not alone."

Spencer shook his head. "No, I wanna sleep with you," he repeated, his lower lip wobbling.

It took a second for him to get it. Hotch brushed his hair off his forehead. "Move over, then," he said. Spencer obeyed, shifting around to make room, and Hotch grabbed the extra blankets off the floor.

The school-issued twin bed was narrow, but there was more than enough room for Spencer to burrow into his side. Hotch pulled the blankets around them both, making sure that Spencer's favorite blanket was pressed up to his cheek.

"Go back to sleep," he said softly, but Spencer's breathing was already evening out, deep and steady, one hand clutching Hotch's shirt and the other holding tight to his blanket. Hotch sighed and closed his eyes, hoping he'd be able to fall asleep too.

Emily stifled a yawn as she balanced her Macbook on her knees. She wasn't quite sure how she ended up like this. Three months ago she'd still be asleep after staying out all night; inevitably she would wake up at noon with a wicked hangover and beg the housekeeper to make her some kind of greasy, salty breakfast. Now she was spending her Saturday morning writing a paper that wasn't due for another two days, after going to bed at a reasonable hour, while babysitting her exhausted roommate.