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"What do you mean?" Spencer asked with anxiety for a woman he barely knew running through his body.
"A funeral director came to speak to her about her fathers funeral." JJ repeated clearly even though Spencer had understood her perfectly before, he just couldn't comprehend it.
"I've got to go and find her."
With those words uttered from his mouth, the mousy haired man ran down the corridor, fear propelling him forwards because he could just sense that questions about her father and family would disrupt Margo's already fragile mental state. He hadn't known her very long but he knew her enough and he could feel her falling apart.
He quickly found the room that he had been told that she was in but it was empty apart from a deathly looking man sat at a desk and packing away papers. Spencer stumbled in with heavy breaths and the man raised a bushy eyebrow at him, Spencer didn't care about his dishevelled appearance though.
He found that he only cared about her.
"Margo Lennon?" He asked brashly.
"She ran out." The man said without delicacy.
Spencer didn't say anything else before he began to run again, back towards the room that he had spent the last few hours in and the girl that he had rejoiced to spend the last few hours with. He didn't focus on the people moving past him or the bright lights -- it was only her that ran through his head.
She wasn't visible through the glass window but it was as if he had a tracker that was leading him to her and it was sending out a blaring alarm that something wasn't right. Upon opening the door, he heard a noise that hit him hard, one that he hated to hear.
Most people wouldn't have noticed it but as Spencer Reid -- a trained BAU agent and incredibly smart man -- surveyed the room, he noticed that the knife was missing from the tray that her dinner lay on.
"Margo."
His pitch was an octave louder than usual and it gained a supressed moan in reply.
Spencer leaped towards the bathroom door and pushed it open quickly. The sight in front of him was one that he would never be rid of because it cut into his soul. Margo was against the wall with sheer pain on her face, her chest covered by only a bra and her stomach wound bleeding profusely. Spencer didn't want to disrespect a person that he had so much respect for and didn't know whether to avert his eyes or help her -- he decided on the latter.
He was reminded of the shooting of Maeve and the pain that had wracked his body when he saw it happen. He didn't want that again. So, he got through the feeling of wanting to collapse on the floor and knelt down next to her.
"Margo." He muttered. "There's got to be a first aid kit around here somewhere."
He stood up and opened the small cabinet that stood underneath the sink. Margo had been assigned one of the best rooms because of her circumstances and Spencer was thankful for that because it meant that she had things like that in her room. He took an anti-bacterial wipe from it and hesitated before pressing it against her red stomach.
"This might hurt." He warned before pressing it down against her open skin.
"It's okay." She replied hazily, voice broken and head lolling onto her own shoulder. Blood loss taking effect.
"Why would you do this?" Spencer's voice wavered as he began to re-wrap the bandages around her stomach.
"Why wouldn't you get the nurses?" She retorted.
"You should put this back on." Handing her the top and looking away for a minute until she had put it back on, Spencer admired the way that she still had some sort of attitude in a time like that.
"It hurts." She groaned. "Will you help me?"
Margo felt embarrased that the pain in her stomach was stopping her from lifting up her own arms to get through the holes of the t-shirt. Spencer reached out his shaking hands but faltered when he got near to her bare skin.
"I trust you." She mumbled.
"It's going to hurt either way. It's an open wound." He told her, pulling her t-shirt down slightly.
"How do you know?"
"I've been shot three times." He gently took hold of her left arm and guided it through the hole of the t-short before doing the same with the right.
"Really? Where?"
"Left knee, left arm and neck." Her eyes widened.
"The neck?" She exclaimed.
"Yeah, it hurt." He couldn't help but let the smallest chuckle escape him.
"I feel silly for complaining about this now." She attempted to smile but it did not work.
"I'm sure that's bad too."
"Why didn't you call the nurses?"
Spencer didn't know why he hadn't called the nurses because that would have been the professional thing to do, what he should have done. However, he didn't want Margo to be put on suicide watch and be treated like there was something wrong with her when she was just alone and afraid -- except she wasn't alone because she had him. He felt like he could relate to her because he took grief hard just as she seemed to and he understood how hard it was to not plunge into darkness and despair.
He had been scared of his own mind and he didn't want her to be.
"They'll have somebody watching over you all the time if they know that you've done this."
"Isn't that your job though."
"Right now, I don't care about that." Spencer kept deep eye contact with her for the first time since they had met.
"I did it on purpose." She admitted. "I forgot how much it had hurt the first time."
Her eyes became glossy with tears and Spencer leaned across to join their hands, she held on to him tightly. They were both nervous from the close contact but they liked it.
"I know." Spencer nodded, speaking softly. "This can stay between us if you promise me that you'll never do it again."
She moved his hand upwards to place it against her chest, right where her heart would be.
