never grow up, criminal minds

063. foamy beer

Clara is sitting on the couch and flipping through the TV channels. She doesn't want to watch anything, but since Spencer's been watching her like a hawk for the past week, she knows he'll just constantly come check on her if she were to hang out in her room. So letting the TV drown out the tense silence while he grades papers is all she can think of.

Clara ends on some old show that's in black and white, though after a moment she recognizes it as I Love Lucy. She tosses the remote aside, staring at the TV, wishing she could be anywhere but here.

"You want a sandwich?" Her dad's voice eventually snaps her out of her zoned out state.

"Not really." Clara mumbles, not looking away from the TV.

Spencer sighs as he walks into the kitchen. After about ten minutes, he walks back out. Clara ignores him as he puts a sandwich on the coffee table before walking over to his desk to eat his own sandwich.

Clara looks down at the food, biting the inside of her cheek. Despite feeling her stomach start to grumble, she returns her attention back to the TV, completely ignoring the sandwich.

Clara's not sure when she ends up drifting off to sleep, curled up on the couch.

Spencer walks over after he finishes grading the papers. He lets out a sad sigh when he sees the completely uneaten sandwich before looking down at his sleeping daughter.

Spencer grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over her. He sits on the coffee table and reaches out, combing through her hair. His thumb brushes over her temple and he cradles her cheek for a moment. For once, she doesn't look exhausted or like she's in pain.

Spencer continues to brush through her hair, accepting the little time he can even get with her, even if it's just sitting by her while she sleeps.

Spencer's eyes drift down to her arm, it hanging off the side of the couch. Her long sleeve is bunched up to reveal a bit of her forearm. Spencer's gaze drifts up to her elbow, harshly swallowing at the idea of finding any marks he doesn't want to.

Spencer gently holds her arm in his free hand, rubbing his thumb over her soft skin. He looks at her face, the girl fast asleep, and looking so peaceful. Spencer's thumb brushes her cheek before he lets go of her, his now free hand moving to the end of her sleeve.

He stops for a moment, considering how much she could hate him for trying to do anything that would be against her wishes. But he'd rather her be alive and hate him instead of be dead and hate him.

With a shaky breath, Spencer slowly pushes her sleeve up. He stops just before her elbow, trying to prepare himself for what he fears he'll find. He takes a deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat.

With one more push, he gets the sleeve past her elbow. Spencer's heart plummets when he finds the scarring on her arm from needle marks. He forces down the bile rising in his throat, his eyes watering with unshed tears.

"No." He quietly whimpers, his thumb gingerly brushing over the marks. He lets out a quiet cry, one hand moving up to rest on Clara's head, his other arm still holding onto her arm. Spencer leans down, his forehead resting on the couch, his tears hitting the hardwood floor.

Spencer hiccups, lifting his head after crying for a few minutes. He quickly wipes his tears and sniffles, swallowing down the oncoming sob.

Spencer leans over, stroking Clara's hair and holding her hand.

"I'm so sorry, baby." He whispers. "I should've known. I should've stayed with you longer. I'm so sorry."

Spencer presses a long kiss to her head, lingering for a few moments. He smooths her hair down and covers her up more before rushing to his room.