Addison Winchester (Now Completed)

chapter 18

"Addison!" My head shot up and nearly connected with Spencer's. "Hey..." I felt his hand press against the side of my face, pulling my eyes to his. "Addi." His voice was soothing and I felt my breathing slowly evened out.

"Spencer?" His name left my lips without my permission.

"Calm down." He moved over slightly so he wasn't on top of me and that's when I noticed that he had been holding me down. It took me all of ten minuets to finally see something other then bright yellow eyes. I pushed my head deeper into the pillow and closed my eyes.

Spencer was laying on his side next to me with a very concerned expression sewed onto his face. He had the blanket pulled up to his waist and I had a hard time focusing on anything other then that. He had a hand resting on my stomach as if to remind me that he was still there.

"I thought the nightmares stopped." He stated softly, I looked at him but didn't say anything. The last thing I wanted to do was retell the thing that has literately been haunting me since I was two years old.

"They did." I sat up making sure to keep the sheet from falling and turned towards him. He gave me that look that therapists give their patients when they want them to talk about the monsters under their bed. "I don't want to talk about it Spence." I turned away from him and swung my feet off the side of the bed pulling the blanket with me.

"This is the eleventh time that you've had this nightmare while we've been together and the ninth time since you've been pregnant."

"What makes you think its the same nightmare?"

"You always scream right before you wake up and when I ask about it you always have the same reaction." He moved closer to me, his placed his hand on my shoulder where the scar on my back started. "It might help if you just talk about it."

"You sound like a fucking therapist." I leaned down causing Spencer's hand to fall from my shoulder. I picked up the same shirt that I had been wearing the night before and wrapped it around myself and started buttoning it closed. Surprisingly I wasn't running to the bathroom and emptying my stomach, maybe this kid has finally gotten tired of kicking the lovely food from my body.

"So it is the same nightmare."

"Yes Spencer. It is the same nightmare and for the last time, I do not want to talk about it."

"You know that Nightmares can be a sign on post traumatic stress disorder."

"You think that I've got PTSD?" I turned around so fast that I almost fell back onto the pillows.

"You have nearly died three times in the last four years. You have refused to speak to anyone about what happened and each time your nightmares get worse. Addison, you wont leave the house without some sort of knife. Until last night you haven't willingly had a conversation longer then ten minuets with people you haven't met at least five times!" He sat up completely and pulled me closer to him.

"First of all, nearly dying doesn't mean anything because I didn't, second of all I feel like I have every right to be a little paranoid considering the fact that I was kidnapped and shot by a man that I at one point thought of as family, I only carry knives because you wont let me carry a gun. and last but not least I was being nice because you work with them and I didn't want to make you look bad."I stood up from the bad and made my way into our bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me.

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Showers have always been my best friend. Growing up it was the only place where I didn't have to worry about someone bursting in. I'm not sure how long I stood under the near boiling water but it was long enough for a to start feeling guilty. Even after four years, talking about how I 'feel' still feels like pulling teeth for me.

Sighing, I turned off the water and pulled the curtains aside, wrapping the towel around me. It was then that I realized I hadn't brought in any clothes with me other then the shirt. Not that it really mattered, I would just prefer to have this conversation with my own clothes on. I opened the opened the door after taking a deep breath. Spencer wasn't in the bedroom and I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I quickly pulled on a some underwear, jeans and a plain black V-neck. It took me an extra bit of force to get the button on my jeans closed but I managed.

I found Spencer in his reading chair, his face buried in a very large textbook. He was so focused on the information in front of him that he didn't notice me coming inside the room. He had done something like this before he decided on putting his mom in a home. And I'm not sure how much I enjoy him having the same reaction to me.

"Spence?" He jumped about a foot off the chair and the book fell from his lap to the floor with a loud bang. I moved over to where he sat and took a seat on the armrest. "Sorry for yelling at you." I turned so my side was facing him and my feet were tucked in on the other side of his legs.

"You weren't yelling."

"Okay, sorry for snapping at you."

"I don't think you were really snapping."

"You are really making it hard for me to say I'm sorry." I slid off the armrest and onto his lap. I could feel my hair soaking through my shirt. I knew I should have combed it out and dried it but at the same time I really didn't feel like it. Spencer was looking at me with a look that ranged between upset and cautious.

"I should have waited until you had calmed down before confronting you like that. You tend to get the most upset when you're scared." There was a few minuets of silence before either one of us said anything.

"Do you really think I have PTSD?" I licked my lips and crossed my arms.

"Most of the symptoms you are showing overly with pregnancy symptoms and the ones you were showing before you've had since we've been together. I think that you have some serious paranoia and that everything that happened with Rodney just made it a lot worse." I felt him place his hand on my hip.

"So you don't think that I have PTSD?" He shook his head, and I felt a little suppress disappear from my chest that I hadn't even realized was there.

"I just really think that you need to talk to someone, if you keep going on like this then one day you might, ten percent of women are diagnosed with it within their lifetime." I couldn't read his emotion off his face but I didn't need to, his voice said it all.

"I just don't think that calling him is enough." I chewed on my bottom lip. This had been another thing that I had been thinking about in the shower. I felt bad about just leaving him without any sort of explanation. He's my younger brother and I feel like he's kind of my responsibility even after four years. He was thirteen when I left and that's a pretty impressionable age at least I think it is, he's the only kid that ever really been around other then myself.

"Then go see him in person, I think that would be better for too."

"Can pregnant women even travel in planes?" I wrapped my arms around his neck and pushed my head into the crook on his neck. He jumped at the coolness of my hair but didn't say anything about it.

"Its safest to go during the second trimester but not past 36 weeks. Your second trimester doesn't begin for another four weeks so I would feel a lot better if you waited until then. That would give us time to get everything in order with your doctor."

"And by getting everything in order you mean, question her into oblivion."

"No"

"Yes." I could feel his frown in my mind and it made me smile.

"I just need to know things that you didn't ask her about." I shook my head smearing more water onto his skin and shirt.

"Sure." I dragged the word out and moved so I could look at him in the eyes. "Can we order some pizza?"