The Keeping of Words | Spencer Reid

21| No Matter the Wreckage

Early that morning, Bianca woke in a slight state of panic, forgetting where she was and how she got there. But the warmth emanating from the body next to her, the strong arms wrapped around her, brought back the memories of the previous night. She opened her eyes slowly to see Specner, sleeping so peacefully. He could've died, and she suspected that they would be working through some of his most persistent demons for the next few weeks. They'd done it before, chasing down the monsters haunting each other's pasts. All that mattered was that he was still here, he was still alive, and they were still together. She moved a little closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He sighed ever so softly, stirring to consciousness beside her.

"Good morning," she said. He looked down at her with a small smile, analyzing the situation; the way he held her, how close she was to him, the quiet beeping of a heart monitor nearby.

"Morning," he replied. "Is everything okay?"

Bianca nodded. "I'm fine. How are you feeling though?"

"My head hurts a little, and my thoughts feel sort of slow and muddled... but you're here," he added.

"And I'm not going anywhere. Unless you want me to?"

Despite the weariness still plain on his face, his gaze was steady, certain. "Course not. Why would you think that?"

The echo of quiet mumblings, apologies muttered to other people, still played in her head; a tape of things she would rather forget. "When we got into that big fight at your apartment you... you said that I couldn't understand you - that I was pressuring you to be okay when you weren't."

She watched as his face fell, as if the reminder had wounded him. "I said that?" he asked, aghast. She nodded and he sighed. "When I was crashing, I would say anything I had to in order to get you to leave me alone so I could use again. I never meant it. And I know that's no excuse, but I need you to know that I've never felt more like myself than I do when I'm with you."

 "It's just that I know there's still a lot you're working through after Maeve. And I just wonder if I made things worse by rushing into things with you." After all, she'd spoken first that day in the park. Perhaps those sentiments should have remained silent.

There were troubles he still had to battle, and the only person capable of knowing when he was ready to move forward was Spencer himself. Things had been jumbled between them in the last few months, the last thing she wanted to do was make them more so. "You're right to say that I'm still figuring things out," he mused. "I'm still figuring out grief and guilt and how to do this job after everything. But I don't need to figure out how I feel about you. I told you I loved you, and despite the things I might have said while high, I still do."

It took little effort to return his tired smile. Keeping one hand pressed close against his chest, her other traced up his torso, across his jaw, following the path from cheek to ear, and brushing her fingers through his hair. She wanted to be closer to him. Closer, closer, closer, enough to keep the nightmares at bay, to keep him safe. The sudden knock on the door made them both jump, startling them back into the world. Hotch and Rossi were stepping into the room as Bianca frantically scrambled off of the hospital bed, smoothing down her clothes which were still wrinkled from the night before. Hotch cleared his throat, as the Reid looked up at them sheepishly.

"I trust you slept well," Rossi said with a smirk.

"If you need to talk, I can go," said Bianca, hurriedly grabbing her things and making a start for the door. Her face was bright red, and embarrassed by unforeseen intrusion she was looking for a quick escape from the situation.