north//spencer reid

chapter thirty one

a happier moodboard!! we've made it yall!!!!

genre: angst, some fluff! finally!
pairing: season fourteen spencer reid x oc
word count: 13.4k (i'm so sorry. the last few chapters are wordy, to say the least)
warnings: graphic descriptions of past and present trauma, piercings, murder, tattooing, needles. let me know if I've missed anything! most of the same warnings from the last chapter apply here.
summary: amelia returns home and tries to get back into everyday life.

vote and comment!! please!! i love all the comments, they make me so incredibly happy and they are the reason I've gotten these last few chapters out so fast. i appreciate all of the love <3

SPENCER

Hospital stays are always the worst and it doesn't take Amelia very long to realize that. She has never minded laying in bed for a while, but that's if it's in a queen-sized bed with me beside her and if she can have her sketchbook on hand. Not to mention the pain she's in from her numerous injuries. It takes Amelia until lunchtime on her second day to start complaining full-on, whining and trying to roll around, talking about how she hates it in the hospital and how badly she wants to go home. It's heartbreaking, truly, and not nearly as annoying as it sounds. I want to give her everything she's asking for and make her as comfortable as possible, but she can barely hold her head up. She needs to be in the hospital for a few days, at least, and then we can talk about getting on a plane home.

But finally, after five days in the hospital full of tears, complaints, naps, tests, distractions, and endless pain, Amelia finally gets to sign her discharge papers. She tells me her hand hurt when she did and that her signature was ugly, but lets out the loudest sigh of relief when a nurse takes out her IV. Penelope even comes by to dole out gentle hugs and tells us that she'll see us on the jet, then leaves so Amelia can get dressed.

"This is really gonna hurt," Amelia whines, sifting through the bag of clothes I packed for her to find the comfiest outfit she can.

"I know, so I'm just gonna apologize in advance," I lean over to press a kiss to Amelia's temple as she holds up a crewneck from Carnegie Mellon and a pair of sleep shorts. I watch carefully as she hobbles into the bathroom, starting to reach over her shoulder for the tie to her hospital gown. "Amelia! Oh, my gosh, stop!" I hastily toss her clothes aside and catch her hand in mine as gently as I can, guiding it back to her side. "You have broken ribs! You need to be careful. The doctor said no heavy lifting and no reaching over your head."

Amelia grimaces as I pull out the knot on the gown, leaning her hip against the wall as she starts to get exhausted from the effort put into keeping herself upright for this long. I move quickly so she doesn't collapse like she did two days ago when she tried to walk for the first time. "You're a doctor," she quips as if that helps her case in any way.

"Uh huh," I nod, moving in front of her and putting the neck hole over her head and helping her put one arm through, then the other, "you're right. I am a doctor. So now you have two doctors telling you not to do heavy lifting or reach over your head."

A loud whine interrupts our refreshingly playful conversation as Amelia puts her left arm through the sleeve, scrunching her face up in discomfort. I spew out apologies and get her arm through as quickly as I can, then reach for her shorts. "We're almost done, I promise. Just hold onto my shoulders. Don't try to balance on one foot," I manage to slide her shorts up her legs and get her stabilized on her feet, sending a few nervous looks her way. But she's just holding onto my shoulders, even as I stand up straight again and give her a once-over. "Okay, you're good to go. No shoes, right? Just socks. I think that's the best choice."

Amelia just hums in confirmation and turns her back to me, leaving the bathroom. If she wasn't so delicate, so exhausted, so terrified, so fragile, then I'd giggle. She's waddling like a penguin, or a pregnant woman, or an elderly person. But she's walking like that because she has stitches in her ankles from ultra-tight metal handcuffs that ripped into her skin, and every time I remind myself of that, all the humor drifts away and the horror reappears.