From the Shadows

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

"Save me one more time, my friend. Just reach out and take my hand. Save me one more time if you can. Save me one more time, my friend. Help me find my way again. Save me one more time if you can." Panic Cell- 'Save Me'.

Emily chewed anxiously on the hangnail on her thumb as she stared numbly at Spencer's door. She could normally compartmentalise well, but she had started to struggle with that, especially where Spencer was concerned. He somehow always managed to shatter her defences. She bit down on her lip and reached for the door handle. Recalling JJ's hysterical sobbing on her return to the BAU following her visit, Emily thought it best to knock first. She curled her fingers into a fist and tapped lightly on the door with her knuckles. There was a muffled sound of the TV being turned down before a voice responded.

"Come in." The voice sounded weary and exhausted instead of bubbling with rage as Emily had anticipated. Emily slowly pushed open the door to see Spencer sat up in the bed, the thin, pale, green blankets gathered around his waist. His hazel eyes were fixed listlessly on the TV. The control for the TV rested on his lap. Emily took note of the variety of tubes and wires connected to her friend and subordinate. He looked defeated. He barely acknowledged her presence.

"Hey, Spence. How're you feeling?" Spencer's eyes dropped to his hands. "Look. I get it. You're pissed at us, and you have every right to be. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you."

"Doesn't matter now. She succeeded. The physical damage... Well, that will heal in time. But she left a piece of her in me when she bit me, and that will never go away." Emily eased herself into the plastic chair to Spencer's left. He sniffed, a tear making its way out of the corner of his eye and tracking down his cheek. Emily inspected the bandage covering the ghastly wound on Spencer's neck.

"What do you mean?" Spencer sniffed again.

"Lila gave me hepatitis, Emily. It's treatable, but it never fully goes away. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but I can live with it and should have a relatively normal life. However, the bit that I just can't seem to wrap my head around is why my best friends, my family, could brush my concerns to one side like they don't matter." Spencer swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I'm well aware of the PTSD I developed from being in prison and the hypervigilance that comes with it. However, I presented you with the evidence, and yet you still dismissed me." Emily had been guiltily staring at her hands, not realising that Spencer had his watery eyes fixed on her.

"I'm so sorry, Spence. Really, I am. What can I do to put this right?"

"I'm asking you to trust me, Emily. Listen to me if I tell you I'm scared. I need you to help me through this." Spencer's bottom lip trembled, tears streaking down his face and getting trapped behind the oxygen cannula. His voice cracked. "Help me." He was unable to prevent the choked cry that left his tightening throat. Emily shifted herself so that she was seated on the edge of the bed and pulled Spencer into a firm hug. Half expecting him to stiffen or pull away, Emily was startled when Spencer wrapped his lanky arms around her waist, fists tightly clenching her deep red sweater. He nestled his tear-stained face into the crook between Emily's shoulder and her neck. His body heaved with wracked sobs. Emily lifted a hand to his head and ran her fingers through Spencer's curls, gently massaging his scalp.

"I will. I promise, Spence. I promise." She felt Spencer nod slightly, his shuddering breaths hot against her shoulder. She felt a rare tear escape from her own eye.

The pair had remained entwined around each other for fifteen minutes when Emily noticed the slow, even breathing on her shoulder. She pulled back slightly to see that Spencer had fallen asleep. He had exhausted himself. Emily gently lay him back into his pillows. His face finally looked at peace, no frown lines creasing his brow. Shadows clung to the hollows of his cheekbones. She took the time to fully inspect his injuries. A bandage had been taped over his swollen nose, the dark bruising underneath stretching across to his lower eyelids. More bruising extended down his forehead and littered the side of his neck from the injections. Steri-strips held together the cut above his eyebrow. The fingertips of his left hand rested against the rough edge of the cast. His right wrist had been bandaged. His broken finger had been taped to the one next to it for stability. His left knee looked bulky beneath the thin blankets where it had been bandaged and braced.