Chapter Text
I woke up, and I had no idea how I had got there. It was actually very alarming. One moment, I’m finishing hiding the boys from our captors, and the next I’m… well here, alone at the top of this hill overlooking an ocean of green. The meadow was bright. Painfully so. The grass was long and uncut, sprinkled intermittently with daisies. It's the kind of place you would see in a painting, the image a metaphor for ‘sit down and smell the roses’ or ‘don’t sell your soul to the capitalist machine, because it's killing you and the planet’.
Is this heaven?
I heard a chuckle from beside me, “No, not quite”.
A woman sat in my shadow, as if she had always been there. I noticed her kind eyes, and the way her blonde hair swayed just so in the light breeze. She said this wasn’t heaven, yet her angelic form seemed designed to complement our surroundings. She looked at me with mild-curiosity, and alarming understanding.
We stared at each other for what felt like an uncomfortable amount of time, before I caved to my own curiosity and asked her “Am I supposed to know you?”
She simply shrugged, “Probably not”.
I feel like there is a lot to unpack there, but I’m just going to ignore the entire box.
I was in the middle of deliberating my next question when she placed her hand delicately over mine in the grass. Any possible words I had for her died on my lips at her featherlike touch.
“Thank you, for all that you’ve done for them” She said, tears gathering on her eyelashes. I stared open-mouthed, simply taking her in. Maybe the light shifted, or I hadn’t noticed it before, but her features were contorted into a haunted expression. Somehow, I knew she had a hollowness in her chest, because at that moment, I felt it too. She seemed so lonely here, and I realized that before I woke, she was probably alone.
She shook her head, as if to realign her face into something more pleasant. I continued to stare.
“Let me give you some advice,” she finally said, “treasure every second you have, because when it's said and done: it will never feel like enough”.
“Who are you?”
The wind picked up suddenly, blowing my hair in my face. It obstructs my view, but I could swear a single tear fell down her face. “It's almost time to go back,” she says softly, “Good luck out there”.
What-
And just like that, I was gone.
The second time I woke up, I was in the hospital. If I had control of my body, I would have made a sound of relief. Hanging out with cryptic ladies in pretty fields was nice for a time, but it brought about too many existential questions to be actually enjoyable. In contrast, this hospital room sucked in ways that made it undeniably real; The repetitive beeping of machines, the harsh UV lights that hurt your eyes, and the immense pain I felt all over my body-- it was so horrible there was no way my brain could have made it all up.
I was startled out of my thoughts by a low murmur, followed by clicking sounds. With painstaking sluggishness, I turned my head and found a woman at my bedside. Her face was pinched in concentration, her focus solely on a pair of knitting needles in her hands. I took in a sharp breath when I noticed her blonde hair, but relaxed when the motion set my entire body on fire. She's real, this is real-- I’m like 99% positive I'm not dead.
I watched as her eyes seemed to drift over me in boredom, then as they widened in realization. Consciousness must have looked weird on me, as she was so startled she dropped her knitting project onto the floor. There was a moment where we just stared at each other, words lost in the shock. I noticed how expressive her face was, like her body couldn’t contain her soul properly. Her bright dress injected some life into the cold and dull hospital room. I like her.
I opened my mouth to say something, but the words dried in my throat. No matter how much I licked my lips, my mouth couldn’t seem to produce any saliva. The dryness was horrible. The girl noticed, and rushed to a pitcher of water. I graciously drank the three cups of water she raised to my lips, guzzling them with gusto.
“Thank you,” I rasped out, “You’re…?”.
She seemed surprised at the implied question, but her face nonetheless broke out into a smile, “Penelope, but you may know me as Garcia? Or maybe even babygirl? I don’t know how much Reid has told you about us...”
The name Garcia rang bells in your head. Spencer always mentioned her brilliance with computers whenever he struggled to work a toaster oven properly. You would always tease him, noting the difference between hacking government databases and working a kitchen appliance. He also mentioned how kind she was, and how she was the other nerd of his office. Thinking back, you seem to recall a photo in his apartment of the two of them: both dressed in Doctor Who outfits and attending a convention.
You smiled back at her, the recognition shining in your eyes, “Didn’t you say something about only going to cons with someone you would sleep with?” She snorted, shaking her head.
“Of all the things for him to mention... Yes, I did say that once”.
“Ugh oh, what did you say this time babygirl? Does someone need a spanking?” In the doorway, a tall blackman leaned against the doorframe. His face was jovel, looking at Garcia with a playful smirk. Garcia seemed like she wasn't expecting him, looking at the clock quickly.
“Is it really that time again?” Garcia gasped out at the man, who simply nodded in return.
“Time for what?” I asked. The man's eyes snapped to meet mine, eyebrows shooting up his forehead.
“Well as I live and breathe! Welcome back to the land of the living stranger!” he said, striding over to my bedside. I watched as he gave me a once over, as if sizing me up. Actually, considering who you think this could be, he's probably building some kind of profile. I force my body to relax under his gaze.
Before I could even think of a reply, Garcia practically skipped into his side saying “I know! She just woke up too. Oh! I should probably call the team, huh? I just got so excited to finally talk to her--”. Morgan (Maybe? Probably?) cut her off with a sharp look, one which sent her straight to her phone across the small room. While she typed away, our eyes met.
“I’m sorry,” I started quietly, “Shift? Am I like… under observation? Hospital-Arrest?”
The man simply grinned, “I’m hurt little lady, I’ll have you know, most women would kill to have me at their bedside. Rumor has it I have excellent bedside manner. Or was it bed-inside manners?”
Penelope scoffed from her chair, I just grinned back at him. Yep, definitely Morgan.
“Reid is a worrywort” Penelope said, “He wouldn’t leave your side once you got out of surgery. We were all worried about him, especially when he punched the shit out of that one dude-”
“What? Spencer punched someone?” I asked, completely stunned.
“-I know right? Would you believe it was a security guard too? Anyway, the only way we could get him out of here for more than 3 seconds was promising to have someone here at all times. To ya know, let him know what was going on? I drew the rotation schedule on this poster board and the whole team pitched in! Even our boss came by a few times”.
“Hmm speaking of which,” Morgan said, “have someone pick up Reid won’t you? I don’t want our boy wonder to get into a crash on his way over”.
Penelope winked at him, “Already all over it. JJ’s on her way to Spencer’s as we speak”.
They continued talking amongst themselves, keeping things light and fun while we waited. Nurses started fluttering around my suite, updating my charts and adding god knows what to my IV bag. Their routine questions kept me from joining in on the banter of Spencer’s friends, but that suited me just fine. It gave me a moment to try and digest everything. I had been kidnapped. They had given me a concussion when they knocked me out in Spencer's kitchen. I had also been shot in the leg. Oh, and hit in the head a second time during the arrest. I keep repeating them in my head, piecing together my blurry memories. Morgan had insisted that it would come with time, When I was ready, but I needed to know now. It wasn’t fair that everyone remembered my own trauma but me. These appalling and violent acts had been inflicted upon me. Shouldn't I be upset? Horrified? These men did unspeakable things and yet I wake up from them just to run through the events like some kind of grocery list? If I’m not horrified by what happened, unable to fall asleep and permanently changed, then how can it even be classified as horrible? Am I, with my reaction, making what they did ok? Because I woke up and was able to meet Garcia’s eyes?
The nurse said this was normal. She said I was in shock. That my medication is making me dissociate. She said this was normal. Is that what this was? Maybe I shouldn’t be horrified after all. People must have it worse than me, like those kids. Will they ever feel safe again? Oh god, what If I’m the bad guy? Am I evil for wanting to be traumatized? I want to be a mess. Why? For attention? Am I trying to use the tragedy for attention, of all things? Am I trying to appreciate the pain of those who have it worse than me just so people can tell me I’m what? Special? Strong? Worthy?
The world washed out. The hospital didn’t bother me anymore. My world wrapped, the colors changed just slightly. I tried to move, to say something. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I could vaguely hear voices, somewhere to close. They said to match their breathing. Others were faint, wrong. There was beeping. More voices. More noise. More light.
Then, for the second time, there was nothing.
It was difficult to wake up. For a while, I lazed in my unconsciousness. I was aware enough to recognize myself, recognize that I was unconscious anyway, but I hadn’t yet roused enough to be paying any attention to my surroundings. I could feel the warmth of my blankets, and appreciate just being still. I even let my mind wonder, daydreaming about everything and nothing.
Without warning, I felt something be placed on top of me. Its lightweight was strangely comforting. I took a tentative breath in, taking in the sterile air. I slightly smoothed the bed sheets, taking in their texture. Each movement further grounded me back into myself, enough to notice the small voices which now filled the room.
“Do you think she likes it?” the small voice asked.
There was a rustling of fabric, coupled with a soft scraping noise. “Sure as a sunny day cher,” an unfamiliar voice replied. Even at its soft volume, I could tell the voice was gruff. Weathered almost.
I cracked my eyes open, and immediately noticed the lights were… warmer. The overhead lights had been dimmed, and the yellow light was primarily coming from a lamp in the corner of the room. A new addition. There were two people sitting in the hospital guest chairs. One, a man who sported a police badge around his neck. In his lap, sat a familiar blond haired boy. They hadn’t noticed I was awake, both fidgeting with the kids ipad.
A small smile wormed its way on my face as I recognized the boy's features. I broke the silence with a slight cough, followed by my quiet “Henry?”
The boy's head shot up, and upon meeting my eyes he shot out of the man's lap. He bounced over to my bedside, grasping my arm with surprising strength.
“Papa look look look! Van ladies awake!”
“Seems so buddy,” the man followed his son to my bedside, putting a hand on Henry’s shoulder. It seemed like he was trying to tether Henry to him, in case he got too excited or overwhelmed me. I appreciated the consideration.
"Names’ Will Lamontagne, and it’s mighty fine to see you awake”.
I wish I could take back how my body tensed at his presence, but I couldn’t help it. His body language was open, his demeanor calm. And yet, despite it all, I couldn’t keep my eyes from travelling down to his badge. He was clearly more law enforcement. Do they need something from me? Is this the part where I disappoint them with my lack of memory? Or maybe with something that I did? Will must have noticed my drifting eyes, because he quickly removed the badge from his neck and stuffed it in his pocket.
"No worries little lady, this is a social call. My girl thought waken’ up to a stranger might be easier than with the team. Plus, someone wanted to see you”.
He smiled at that, and I did my best to return it. My gaze slid over to meet the bombastic kid still clutching my arm in excitement. It was a relief to see him so full of life, so genuinely happy, so soon after what had happened.
“So? Do you like it?” Henry asked impatiently.
“Hm? Like what?” Henry grinned at my confusion, simply nudging a previously unseen lump on top of me. Perfectly balanced atop my tummy, was a bright pink plush cow. Its black beaded eyes bore into mine, as if taunting me for taking so long to acknowledge its presence. Painfully, I brushed my free hand across the top of its fuzzy head.
“Her names Milky, named her myself!”
“Hey now,” I started with a cheeky smirk, “Why does it have to be a girl cow? What if it's a boy cow?”
Henry’s face instantly transformed into the most deadpan expression I had ever seen on a kid. Without missing a beat, he stated “It has utters and small horns. It's a girl cow. And HER name is Milky”.
I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing, pain be damned. His scrunched up face and serious answer, he reminded me too much of his godfather. Will must have thought so too, because he was howling alongside me. That’s what I get for trying to give a lesson on gender roles, I get schooled on my lack of biology knowledge.
“Alright kid”, Will breathed, tears gleaming in his gleeful eyes, “Why don’t you find your Ma?”
You would think Will had chased him out of the room with how fast Henry bolted out the door. His little steps pittered across the linoleum floors, quickly rushing toward some unseen sitting room.
“Kids are amazing aren’t they?” I mused quietly, reverently basking in the youth Henry breathed into my hospital room.
Will nodded, “They are strong. He was the one hurt, yet he's doin better than us”. While he spoke, his eyes never left their place on the door. I could tell he was searching for his son, despite the walls which now separated them. Or maybe he was worried if he looked away, Henry would never come back-- that he would be lost and never found. I couldn’t help but follow his gaze, trying to find a different blond. Was this what Spencer was doing? Will he too stare through walls to find me? Will he have such fears?
Will’s hand found mine. As he lightly squeezed my fingers, I couldn’t tell who he was trying to comfort. At that moment, perhaps we both needed it. There was so much to say, to discuss, yet time didn’t allow for grand gestures or speeches. Instead, Will simply said, “Thank you for protecting my family”.
It was worth it. And if given the chance, I would do it again.
I squeezed back. I hope he got the message.
Something must have been happening, because Will’s body language suddenly tensed. With a final look towards me, he headed to the door. I could faintly hear a commotion in the hallway, and noted it only seemed to grow louder by the second. Will peaked his head out the door, just to hear a nurse rush past saying “Sir, only two visitors at a time-”
Will only had a second to step back before the door swung open, and suddenly people came pouring in, despite the nurses best efforts against it. If I had the mind to be, I suppose the group of FBI agents would be intimidating. If I had looked, I could have searched my scrambled brain and placed each face. If I had cared, I would have had time to be nervous for the introductions.
But I didn’t, because the second I saw who was leading the herd, I had eyes only for them. The world fell away as I looked onto the man before me. He had changed so much since I had last seen him. His face was undeniably pale. His eyes looked sunken in, swollen with sleep deprivation and tears. His hair was a mess, sticking up and out-- as if it too, was unable to rest. His clothes were wrinkled and stained with dark blotches down his front. But despite the mess, he was still undeniably my Spencer. My loveable dork that I wanted nothing more than to hold for the rest of my life. Or at the very least, the rest of this terrible hospital stay.
His approach felt like a dream. His hands were on me in an instant, grabbing my shoulders firmly. His eyes were wild with grief and disbelief. It occurred to me that he too, was unsure in their grounding in reality. Spencer had always feared his own brilliant mind, and what it could potentially create to torture him. The stab of guilt I felt in my chest was worse than any injury I had physically received. My body responded before my brain could catch up, launching my arms around his neck and pulling him into me.
Spencer half landed on top of me, his arms unable to catch his fall. He didn’t seem to mind, as he slid his arms around my middle (Milky, bless her heart, squished between us). With his face tucked into the crook of my neck, I felt as his nose nuzzled my pulse point. It was a surprisingly slobbery affair, his tears and hushed whispers making a mess of the area. But I couldn’t care less, because he was here and alive and real. For several moments, I simply breathed him in. I was almost hysterical, murmuring his name like a prayer. Oh, and I cried. Uncontrollably.
The spell was broken when a sharp pain shot through me, causing me to cry out. He was off me instantly, terrified of hurting me further. Carefully, I put his hand in mine and attempted a reassuring squeeze. He reciprocated my movements, but his expression nonetheless remained creased in worry.
A blond woman, different from Garcia, put a hand on his shoulder, “She's ok Spence, the doctors said this would happen”.
Spencer only nodded, eyes never leaving my face. I took this moment to lock eyes with the several faces which filled the room. I recognized Morgan's smiling face, and Garcia’s tear filled one. Will must have excused himself from the room with Henry, as both were notably absent. There were more faces which lined the back wall, but they were no more than vague recollections from pictures and stories. Despite my lack of identification for most, somehow I knew that Spencer’s whole team now stood around us.
It took a moment, but a tall brunette man finally broke away from the small peanut gallery. With quick, confident strides, he found himself on my other side. His commanding presence was almost overwhelming, I found myself unable to meet his gaze.
“I’m Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner from the Behavioral Analysis Unit, my team was responsible for rescuing you.”
So this was Hotchner, Hotch, from Spencer’s team. He was… exactly as I had imagined him to be. The stories were no exaggeration.
I expected him to continue, but he simply stood there. For what was starting to become an uncomfortable amount of time. The resounding silence did eventually peak my curiosity, so I shyly snuck a glance at his expression. Hotch was simply staring at me, face torn in indecision. It was as if he didn’t know how best to proceed, or perhaps he did but was unsure of the results. It was undoubtedly strange to see such indecision coming from him, especially since his presence exuded such unbridled authority not even moments ago. It was almost like his boss persona had suddenly melted away and he didn’t know how to cope. As our eyes met, a memory flickered across my mind-- one where I looked into those same eyes and…
Oh no
Words had already been escaping me before, but now I really find myself struggling. But I needed to know if that memory really happened. With the elegance of a 5 car pile up on a freeway, I stumbled around my question: “You...Where you....At the scene?”
He curtly nodded. The action, while physically small, flooded my nerves with anxiety and embarrassment. I could tell from their expressions that my face must have exploded in a raging blush, and (as if that wasn’t bad enough) my heart rate monitor started beeping loudly-- its screen flashing with warnings.
“I'm so sorry. If I had known… I would have never even insinuated… I thought you were....”
Spencer’s careful touch on my cheek broke me from my ramblings. I turned to face him on my other side. “Hey,” he said slowly, “Stop right there. Whatever it is, we can worry about it later. You have one job right now, and that's to get better”.
Unfortunately for my embarrassment, a moment later Agent Hotchner’s face flashed with recognition, “Oh, that. Don’t worry about it. I should be the one apologizing. It was my fault for breaking protocol and forgetting to identify myself”.
The team looked at Hotchner then, all sporting varying levels of shock on their faces. Unsure if the surprise was his apology or his breaking of procedure: either way the response as a whole must have been majorly out of character for the man.
“Now you got me curious, what could Miss Girl Wonder have done to be graced with such an apology?” Morgan teased while elbowing his boss casually. His smile seemed contagious, soon the whole team was in a silly-goofy mood.
“Or what Hotch did to her,” the man you recognized as Rossi chimed in, “Don’t tell me you’re working on wife number two already? Didn’t realize you had a thing for taken women”.
The brunette woman by the door giggled, “She shouldn’t be sorry because what she did was fucking hilarious and he totally deserved it”.
Garcia dramatically turned toward her, waving her hands in the air as if to punctuate her words, “Wait, Emily, you knew about some actually juicy workplace gossip and didn’t immadiety tell me?”
Emily smirked in response, “I conveniently forgot when you spilled that margarita on my favorite white blouse”.
Garcia huffed theatrically, turning to the blond still standing behind Spencer at my side. “JJ! Tell Emily to spill the beans already!”
JJ didn’t immediately respond, mouth half open around a sentence which never left her lips. Her expression didn’t mean much to me, but Garcia seemed even more exasperated by it.
“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” Garcia said, “Does everyone know BUT me?”
Hotchner cleared his throat. Glad to know I’m not the only one embarrassed by these events. Spencer kept looking between his coworkers faces expectantly, confusion plastered all over his face. Clearly he didn’t know what was going on either. When his eyes fell upon me, I could see the unasked question burning in his eyes.
I signed, trying to calm my racing heart and increasing anxiety. “It was at the scene,” I started quietly, “Lots of things are fuzzy. I remember finding this hatch in the ceiling-- I guess news vans have them built in so the crew can perch filming equipment on the roof? Anyway, I know I got the kids through there and then there was just… noise. Lots of noise”.
I took another breath, this one shakier than the first. Spencer’s grip tightened on my hand. As I looked up at him, I could tell the memory was hard for him to relive. It was almost easy to forget that he was there too, watching and listening to everything that happened to me.
I continued slowly, never taking my eyes off Spencer, “The pain was… unbelievable. But before I passed out, I had a moment of lucidity. There was someone over me, yelling about the kids. I thought... I thought it was the kidnappers”.
My heart monitor beeped, alerting the group of my increased heart rate. The red coating my face deepened, meanwhile spreading to my neck and ears. God this was humiliating.
“For christ sake,” Emily murmured, “She told Hotch to suck a fat load of cocks when he asked about the kids in the van”.
Silence.
I’m surprised my monitor doesn't display a flat line, because at that moment my heart was in my throat. It was embarrassing enough that I had said something so vulgar to my boyfriend's boss. That alone is a complete nightmare. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I said it during a hostage situation, where I myself was one of the hostages, and it was our first time ever meeting? The story of that really bad thing is the whole team's first impression of me. Fantastic.
At least I wasn’t the only one, Hotchner looked mortified. The whole room was quiet, everyone processing the information. I think we broke Garcia, she literally just blinked at me. Seriously. GARCIA was speechless.
“You didn’t actually say that… Did you?” Spencer asked me, eyes wider than saucers.
“I think my exact words were ‘suck my dick’ followed by a very dramatic dizzy spell”.
Spencer was known for his poker face. Given his job, and Vegas upbringing, it took a lot to break him once he put his mind to it. Yet this, this is what did him in. Despite how still he kept his body, how passive he attempted to keep his features, the corners of his lips could not stop quirking upwards and out of place.
Morgan grinned so widely, I feared his face would break. “Damn, Mrs. Reid has some fire in her! I knew I liked her”.
“Morgan...” JJ warned with a sharp look, “Are the nicknames really necessary? Give the poor girl at least one meeting before you start teasing her”.
“What else am I supposed to call her? Van girl? Not-much-of-a-kid-but-none-the-less-napped person? Reid’s booty call-”
“Fine!” Spencer said, “Guys, this... is my girlfriend. Her name is (Y/N)”. I awkwardly waved my free hand. The team smiled back at me.
JJ waved her hand in a dismissive manor, “Oh come on, none of that”. She rested her hand on my lower leg, careful to avoid my still healing bullet wound in the area. With a reassuring smile, she continued, “We owe you our children's lives. For that, you are family”.
Hotch nodded in agreement, allowing himself a small and rare smile, “I can’t thank you enough for what you did for my son. I know I speak for all of us when I say it’s an honor to finally meet you”.
“OH she's so cute Spence!” Garcia giggled excitedly, “I can see why you wanted to keep her for yourself. She is totally a keeper!”
Spencer found my eyes then, his expression filled with a warmth I couldn’t bear to look away from. At that moment, an understanding settled between us. A lot had happened. We both were affected, and would continue to be for the long hall. There was a lot of healing which needed to happen before either of us would be ok again; Before either of us could feel safe in our worlds, in our homes, in our relationship again. But with that look? I knew he was ready for it. Because we, as a couple, were worth it.
“Yeah… she is, isn’t she?”