warning: drug overdose
Saturday was here and we weren't on case, meaning I was going to meet the girls at the bar as soon as I finished getting ready. My face was still bruised, but it was nothing a little denial mixed with concealer couldn't fix.
I had never actually hung out with the women of the team without Morgan. He just seemed to materialize wherever Penelope went, especially when alcohol and dancing was involved.
But tonight, it was just us. At the bar, we sat at a high-top table, giant fruity drinks in our hands, laughing our asses off. I was having so much fun despite the slight twinge of regret that it took me so long to join them on a girl's night.
During a lull in the conversation, my mind drifted to Spencer. Likely due to all of the practice, he had become skilled in the art of dodging me. I knew that my constant bothering wouldn't help the situation, so I tried to give him as much space as possible in the hopes he would get over whatever it was that was bothering him. I reached into my purse and pulled out my phone.
Three missed calls. All from Spencer.
I excused myself to the bathroom, calling him on the way. He answered but didn't say anything.
"Spencer? Is everything alright?"
"Y/n... I... I messed up. Bad." I could barely hear him on the other end of the line between the loud music in the bar and his shallow breathing directly into the microphone.
"What'd you do?"
"Can you just... can you just please come over," his words slurred together, and I started to get worried.
"Yeah, I'll be over soon." I left the little area outside of the bathrooms and walked back over to JJ, Prentiss, and Garcia. "Well, ladies, I think it's about time I call it a night."
"Party pooper! Stay for a little bit longer!" Garcia begged.
"I'm sorry, I really can't. I'll see all of you on Monday!" I walked away as fast as I could so they wouldn't have time to ask why I was leaving in such a hurry.
I jumped in an Uber and went to Spencer's. When I knocked on his door, he didn't answer. The anxiety started building in my chest. I knocked again. Still no answer.
The door was unlocked, so I walked in, announcing myself as I dropped my purse on the couch. I still didn't hear anything. Why would he tell me to come over and then disappear? I checked the kitchen – maybe he was cooking and didn't hear me?
Still no sign of Spencer.
It wasn't until I found him sitting on the floor of his bathroom, head thrown back, eyes barely opened, that I put together the pieces: the erratic behavior, defensiveness and lashing out combined with his slurred words from earlier, "I messed up." My eyes raked over his body and saw tiny bruises up and down his forearms.
He was using again. Prentiss was right.
"Spencer!" I shouted. "Spencer wait, stay awake please don't go to sleep!" I shook his shoulders as I whipped out my phone from my back pocket, dialing 911.
"911 what is your emergency?"
"I need an ambulance. My friend is overdosing on..." I scrambled to find whatever it was he used. "...Hydromorphone, h-he's overdosing on hydromorphone please send help quick."
"Y/n... I'm... sorry," Spencer breathed out as his eyes rolled back into his head.
"No, Spence, don't apologize, you're gonna be alright. Help is on the way, just please stay with me."
We never know we go, - when we are going
We jest and shut the door;
Fate following behind us bolts it,
And we accost no more.
Tears streamed down my face as I held him on his bathroom floor, the life drifting out of his body. I begged the universe to please, not let Spencer close that door. In my life, the universe tended to be a cruel bastard, but I probably deserved what it gave me. Spencer didn't, though. He was the kindest person I ever knew.
The paramedics burst through the door and found me huddled over his limp body. I stood out of the way; my legs barely able to support my weight. I looked down at my hands through my blurry, tear filled vision, and watched them tremble violently.
They lifted him up onto the stretcher and rushed him outside, me practically stepping on their heels on the way. The sirens blared as I held his hand in the back of the ambulance. He still hadn't woken up.
Then, I heard the heart monitor flat line.
"Ma'am, you need to let go of him," the paramedic demanded as she rushed to ready the paddles to shock him. "Clear!" His body convulsed. "Charge again!" They shocked him a second time, his heart resuming a normal rhythm.
His eyes opened and he looked all around the ambulance, obviously scared and without a clue of what was happening.
I took his hand again and interlaced our fingers. "Hey, it's okay, you're gonna be okay, I'm right here."
His eyes closed again and he didn't respond.
----
"Y/n."
I opened my eyes to see Spencer looking at me. I rubbed my neck as I sat up straight in the crappy hospital chair I had fallen asleep in.
"Hey, you're awake," I mumbled. "How're you feeling?"
"All things considered, not too great," he let out a hoarse chuckle.
I'm glad that his sense of humor wasn't completely gone.
"Here, uh- do you want some water? The doctors said you'll start going through withdrawal soon, so you need to stay hydrated."
He nodded, so I stood up and held the cup of water near his face. He bit the bendy straw and took a few sips before releasing it. He rested his head on the pillow and studied my face, almost as if he had forgotten what it looked like.
I held my hand to the side of his face, trying to provide him what little comfort I could. He leaned into my touch as I whispered, "you don't have to tell me anything about before. Just, thank you for calling me when you did."
"Thank you for coming." His eyes drooped shut as he got the rest he desperately needed.
Spencer wasn't going to be getting out of here anytime soon and I wanted to be with him the entire time – assuming he'd have me. Me being by his side while he was going through this was just sort of implied. So, I pressed '1' on speed dial and waited for an answer.
"SSA Hotchner."
"Hey, Hotch, it's y/n. Spencer caught some intestinal bug and he's at the hospital right now. He doesn't uh- he doesn't really have anyone else, so I'm going to stay here with him until he's feeling better." Thank god I was having this conversation over the phone because Hotch would've sniffed out my lie immediately. There was no hiding from the master profiler himself.
"I'm sorry to hear that, tell him I hope he feels better soon. I hate to ask, but do you know when you'll be back? We were going to leave on a new case this afternoon."
"No, sorry, he's in pretty rough shape so it'll probably be a few days."
"Alright, thanks for letting me know, keep me updated on his condition."
I ended the call and walked back into Spencer's room.
Saying that the next few days were hard would be an understatement. Spencer barely slept and threw up basically anything he tried to eat. I did my best to stay by his side the entire time through the extreme mood swings that accompanied his withdrawal.
On the morning of his discharge, he was visibly better. The sweating and nausea had subsided, and the dark circles under his eyes were lighter.
We were both reading our books quietly when he interrupted, "hey, y/n? Can you do me a favor?"
"Lay it on me."
"Before I get discharged later can you go back to my apartment and dump out all of the bottles? There's uh- three of them in the top drawer of my desk." His voice was laced with shame.
"Of course." And so that's what I did. I dumped out all three bottles, collected any needles I could find, and threw all of it away in a trashcan outside of his apartment.
----
I wrapped an arm around Spencer's waist as we walked up the stairs to his apartment. I unlocked the door and he immediately hobbled to his bedroom and burrowed under the covers.
I poked my head in and asked "are you hungry? I can make us some dinner if you feel like eating."
"I could eat, but I don't think I really have anything."
"Oh, I'm sure I can find something!" I cheered and went to the kitchen.
He wasn't lying. There was nothing in the fridge except some butter, a half-eaten jar of pickles, and some sriracha. How anyone could live like this, I don't know. I went to check the freezer next, and to my surprise, I found a frozen pizza. Perfect. I preheated the oven and unboxed it. It was only a little freezer burnt, but still edible in my very experienced opinion.
I brought the cooked pizza to his room and he perked up at the scent.
I sat down and bragged, "I told you so!"
We started eating as I eyed my shoes in the corner of his room. I had totally forgotten they were still here or else I would've grabbed them when I stopped earlier in the day. "Hey, there's my shoes, asshole," I quipped, motioning towards them.
The look of horror and guilt on his face didn't dissipate after I explained that I was kidding.
He looked down at his slice. "I'm sorry, y/n, that I put you through this. That you missed work to take care of me because I can't handle taking care of myself."
"No, please don't apologize." I put my finger under his chin and tilted his head up to look at me. "This wasn't your fault. None of this will ever be your fault. Do you understand me?"
"Yes." He nodded his head and I pulled back my hand so I could grab another piece of pizza. "I still shouldn't have treated you like that. I just- the facility my mom is at called and said she's getting worse. None of the drug combinations I suggested are working. I just feel so helpless all the time, and I took my anger out on you. I am sorry for that."
A tear rolled down his face. "You know, I always thought I would have cured Schizophrenia by the time I was 25. I never even considered the possibility of her developing Alzheimer's as well."
I put the pizza on the nightstand and enveloped him in a hug, which only made him cry harder into my shirt. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You're doing the best you can and I'm proud of you for it."
I laid us back on the bed as he curled up further into my body, resting his head on my chest. I ran my fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm him. Thoughhe was home and feeling better, I knew this fight would never be over. He wouldalways blame himself for his downfalls, and as much as I tried, I don't know ifI could ever convince him he was wrong.
He eventually quieted down, presumably falling asleep. It didn't take me long to follow suit. I dreamt of nothing that night as I held him tightly in my arms.