Echos of a Genius | Spencer Reid

Finale

Stephie

The soft cries from the nursery echoed down the hall, piercing through the quiet of the house. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my body aching in places I didn't even know could hurt. Hope was only a few weeks old, but it felt like I hadn't slept in years. Every night was the same cycle—feed her, try to calm her, and then listen to her wail as soon as she was put down. Spencer was in there now, probably pacing the floor with her again, whispering to her in that gentle voice of his. He was always so patient, so steady, but even he was starting to show signs of exhaustion.

I could hear him murmuring softly, trying to soothe her, but Hope was a fussy baby. The kind of baby who wouldn't be set down without a fight, and even when she was being held, it didn't guarantee peace. She wanted to be rocked, constantly moving, like the world would fall apart if she wasn't in motion. I suppose she gets that from me...

I pulled the blankets up to my chin, frustrated with myself. It had been weeks, and I still wasn't back on my feet. The doctors had warned me it could take time, that my body needed to heal after everything it had been through—nine months of pregnancy that felt like nine years, and then bed rest, barely able to move without feeling like my body was betraying me. But knowing that didn't make me feel any less useless.

I hated that I wasn't the one pacing in the nursery right now, that I couldn't be the one holding Hope as she cried for comfort. Spencer had taken on so much, more than either of us had anticipated. He was the one staying up late, the one catching maybe an hour or two of sleep at a time, while I lay in bed, too weak to help the way I wanted to.

A pang of guilt twisted in my chest. I had wanted this so badly—our daughter, our family—and now I felt like I wasn't even capable of taking care of her. It wasn't just the physical exhaustion; it was emotional, too. My mind was running in circles, constantly wondering if I was doing enough, if I'd ever feel like myself again.

I shifted uncomfortably, propping myself up on an elbow, and listened to Spencer's footsteps. They were soft, rhythmic, as he walked back and forth, probably holding Hope close to his chest like he always did. She calmed more with him than with me, I blame it on not being able to hold her against me for the first hours of her life. I tried not to let it sting too much. Spencer was so good with her, even when his eyes were bleary with exhaustion. He was the one keeping us both afloat right now.

The door creaked open, and Spencer appeared in the doorway, Hope bundled up in his arms, her tiny head resting on his shoulder. She was still fussing, her little fists clenching and unclenching against his shirt, but she wasn't screaming anymore. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, but he managed a small smile when he saw me looking.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice soft, like if he spoke too loudly it would undo the fragile calm he had worked so hard to achieve. "She's almost asleep. Thought maybe you'd want to hold her?"

My heart ached in that moment. Of course I wanted to hold her. I always wanted to hold her. But I was so scared of messing it up, of not being able to calm her the way Spencer could.

"Are you sure?" I asked, even though I knew what his answer would be.

He nodded, stepping closer to the bed. "Yeah, she's ready for her mom."

I sat up slowly, careful not to move too quickly, and reached out for her. Spencer gently placed Hope in my arms, her warm, squirming little body settling against me. She stirred, her tiny mouth puckering like she might start crying again, but then she nestled into the crook of my neck, her breath warm against my skin.

For a moment, I just held her, breathing in the soft, baby scent of her, feeling the weight of her in my arms. I looked at her face, so small, so perfect, and all the frustration, all the guilt melted away, just for a little while. She was ours. She was everything.