only about three or four chapters left!! i edited this in my music theory class so. rip to my music skills.
shoutout to my lovely readers who keep commenting and keep giving me love. you're the reason i'm motivated to get these chapters out so fast <3 and shoutout to the amazing reader who left a comment on my board. i appreciate you so much.
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genre: angst
pairing: season fourteen spencer reid x oc
word count: 10k
warnings: panic, handcuffs, drugging, mentions of death and child abuse. if I miss anything please let me know!
summary: amelia in the hospital, doing what she can to stay in reality.
SPENCER
The chairs in hospital waiting rooms are, by the far, the most uncomfortable place to ever sit. The chairs are sharp and never have any padding and are often an ugly, non-soothing color. And every time I find myself trapped in one of these chairs, I swear to myself that it would be the last time I endure this type of torture. I always close my eyes and tell myself that this will be the last time I make myself sit and hold back tears as I wonder if my loved one is going to survive, if they're even going to make it out the doors of the hospital.
But now it's completely different. Sure, in the past, I've had to wait for hours through surgeries for my best friends and coworkers. But those were surgeries that I could run numbers and statistics on to calm myself and tell myself that they would survive and be back to work in a few weeks.
Amelia didn't even need surgery. That's not the kind of torture she endured. She wasn't sliced open or shot or even physically injured too badly. But Amelia not being in surgery, in a way, is so much worse. I have no statistics to comfort me and to calculate. She fell unconscious in the ambulance and then she was rushed away from me when we arrived at the hospital, and the nurses have refused to tell me any information, no matter how many times I harass them and no matter how many times I remind them that I'm her boyfriend and her emergency contact and I'm an FBI agent who demands to know what her condition is. They just tell me she is seeing a doctor and they will give me an update soon. But it's been hours upon hours upon hours and I haven't heard a peep. I've just sat and stared at the floor and tried to forget Amelia's echoing screams and horrified face when we tried to rescue her. It's just another haunting image that will plague my brain for the rest of my days.
"She's gonna be okay."
I tuck my head in my hands, squeezing my eyes shut as I hunch over, the chair creaking under my weight. "I don't know. I don't know. I mean– I just– you saw–"
"Yeah, Spence, I did see her," JJ murmurs, slipping into the chair beside me. "She was–" she hesitates, and her uncertainty wafts through the empty waiting room, assaulting my senses in the most horrifying way possible, "yeah, she was really psychologically messed up. But physically, she was okay. She's not even in surgery. She's getting patched up. She won't even be in ICU."
"JJ, she screamed at me and pushed me away. Kelsey made her believe that we were all killed the same way her mother and brother were. She's not gonna be able to recover from this." I completely collapse into myself, my body trembling and my arms wrapping around my head, trying to shut out the world around me, even JJ.
"That's not true," she whispers, not allowing me to do the one thing I want. She won't leave me alone. And as badly as I wish she would get up and leave me alone in the waiting room again, I can't lie when I say that her presence is somewhat helpful and comforting. "She just needs help determining what is real or not. Penelope helped her do that and–"
"But Penelope can't just move in with her or I can't just call her over every time Amelia has a panic attack. I can't– we can't–"
"No, Spence, that's not practical. But when you were having trouble readjusting to life after prison, Amelia paid attention to what helped you, and she figured out ways to help you. We all saw it when you had that moment with Luke at Rossi's dinner party. She knew exactly what to do to help."
I sniffle and instead of it actually helping to quell my tears, I just inhale the horrible hospital scent and it burns my nose and throat. I shake my head, dragging my hands down to the back of my neck. "I don't know what you mean."
"You'll figure out ways to help her, Spencer, that's what I mean," JJ blurts out quickly. "You'll figure out little things that will help her realize that she isn't stuck in whatever reality Scratch and Kelsey created for her. If that sometimes means calling Penelope or one of us to remind her that we're alive, then so be it," she pauses again, rubbing her hands over her legs and letting out a breath. It's an impossible situation to console me on, I know. I'm silently asking for too much. I should be insisting she leave me alone so I don't force her to feel like she needs to help me, but the more she sits beside me, the more her presence comforts me. "Nobody said this process was going to be easy, and it's not, at all. But if anyone can make it though, it's you two. Kelsey is being carted off a maximum-security prison where he won't be able to escape again, Scratch is dead and so is Cat. You can make it through this. You do whatever you possibly can to care for Amelia. You can do this."
"Spencer Reid?" My head pops up as soon I hear my name, and I'm on my feet in seconds, approaching the nurse with a clipboard. The woman gives me a kind smile and glances down at the papers in her hand. "You're Amelia Stark's emergency contact, correct? Her boyfriend?"
"Yeah, I am," I nod breathlessly, my heart pounding in my chest as I start to wring my hands together. "Is she, um, where is she?"
"I'll bring you to her," the nurse waves me along, and I stay hot on her heels as she leads JJ and me out of the deserted waiting room. "I'll bring you to Amelia's doctor and he will tell you her injuries."
The doctor is waiting right in front of her hospital room with a smile, holding his hand out for a greeting. I barely even process the act I'm performing as I give a half-assed wave, I'm just so hell-bent on hearing about Amelia and if she's going to be okay. The doctor quickly brushes away my rudeness and shakes JJ's hand, then pops open his chart.
"I'm Dr. Trent and I'll get right down to business," he says, "Sir, I know you were in the ambulance with Amelia so you know she fell unconscious. She has yet to regain consciousness and she is still unconscious now, so we were only able to assess her physical state, not her mental state," he looks down at her chart and sighs heavily. I chew on my fingernails, resisting the urge to shuffle back and forth on my feet. "But as for her physical state, it's rough but it could be much worse. She's got three broken ribs, wounds on her wrists and ankles that needed to be stitched and wrapped up with gauze. She's severely dehydrated and malnourished and it's evident that she wasn't fed or given water while she was a hostage. And we believe she has a concussion but it is impossible to tell the severity until she is awake."
"I, um," JJ sigh, scoffing out a nervous laugh, "I hate to be the one to ask this but someone has to and I don't want it to be Spencer," I look down at my worried friend, seeing her giving me an anxious smile before turning back to Dr. Trent. "Did you run a rape kit?"
I would walk away right then and there if I had it in me. That thought hadn't even crossed my mind. Would Kelsey assault Amelia like that? That wasn't in his profile but I wouldn't put it past a monster like him to want to assault her in every single way possible. But I stick around, waiting for the answer on pins and needles.
"Yes, we ran a rape kit and it came back negative," he tells us, and I swear, the loudest sigh of relief escapes my lips. "There was more thing, actually. There were burns on her tongue. Not like cigarette burns. We couldn't tell exactly what type of burns they were but we thought it could be–"
I squeeze my eyes shut, wiping my hands over my face. "Like someone put hot sauce on her tongue?"
Dr. Trent takes a split second to think and then he starts to nod, glancing down at his papers. "Yes, actually. That wasn't a theory we thought of but it's very possible."
"Has Kelsey done that to her before?" JJ asks.
I nod against my hands, and when I speak, my voice is slightly muffled. "When we first started dating, I noticed that she could drink boiling hot coffee and not even flinch. She told me her dad used to put hot sauce on her tongue as a punishment all the time when she was a kid."
There is an awkward silence that looms over the three of us for a while, just as we process that horrifying information. But I've spent three years with that information and I still haven't made peace with it. I never will. "Wait a second," JJ interrupts my thoughts and looks into Amelia's room, pointing her fingers towards the bed, and it's just then that I drop my hands, laying eyes on her helpless, pale body, "why is she in handcuffs? She's not under arrest!"
"We know that, Agent," Dr. Trent says calmly, but I practically ignore him as I step forward, staring into the room through the window. I lock my eyes on the metal around her wrists, the IV in her arm, the oxygen mask around her mouth, and my heart just breaks even more. I wish I could run in there and snap my fingers to cure her of all her pain, or even just to take her pain and put it all on me. I'd rather myself be in pain than have her be in pain. "The handcuffs are for protection. We are aware of what she went through and how she may react when she wakes up. If she happens to panic when she wakes up, the handcuffs are there so she doesn't hurt herself or others, or even pull out any IVs or wires. It's for protection. I'll be around, but ask the nurses if you need anything at all. Amelia should be waking up within the hour." And with that, he stalks off to meet with another patient.
"I'm gonna go tell the team. They're all still at the station with the Sheriff," JJ pats my shoulder and pulls out her phone, treading off to go make a call.
My body feels like it enters a different dimension as I walk into Amelia's room, immediately hearing the steady beeping from her heart monitor. Seeing her close up just makes me want to burst into tears and for a moment, I consider leaving. I consider turning on my heel and running out of the room and not coming back until she's healed and she's smiling and dousing me in love again. But that's not fair. She's never abandoned me when I need her so why would I do that to her? She needs me now more than ever so there's no other option but to stay, no matter how hard it might be for me to see her laying in that uncomfortable bed.
I spot a chair in the far corner so I lift it up and bring it over, sitting as close as I possibly can. Having her hands in cuffs is bad enough and I already know it's going to be bad for Amelia when she wakes up, but I really want to reach out and hold her hand. I can't do that when her hands are hanging in the air limply.
JJ stops by to tell me that the team is on their way from the station and then goes somewhere else, I wasn't listening completely. My eyes were focused on Amelia's chest rising up and down steadily, just making sure that it continues to do so. I don't even have it in me to examine the bruises on her arms or the bandages on her wrists or even the chart dangling from the edge of her bed. I just watch to make sure she's still breathing and try to keep myself from completely losing my mind.
The moment she starts to move her head in the tiniest bit, I jump to my feet. She tilts her head a bit to the left, breathing out so heavily that it fogs up her oxygen mask. But then I hear the rattling of the handcuffs as Amelia tries to move her arms, and when she realizes she can't, she starts to move quicker.
"Lia?" I lean in closer, placing one of my hands on top of hers in an attempt to calm her. "Hey, baby, it's Spencer. You're in the hospital, you're okay. Everything is okay, you're safe–"
With one too-harsh tug with her wrist, she cries out in pain and her wrist starts to bleed, probably tearing a few stitches. Even though she never opens her eyes, I can see the moment she loses it. The sudden pain and the blood combined with the mask and the handcuffs– they're all the conditions she was kept under with Kelsey and Scratch. She probably doesn't even think she was rescued. She starts to scream. She kicks her legs and thrashes around the bed, screaming gibberish and trying to swat away the oxygen mask on her face. But no matter what I say to try to calm her down, she doesn't listen. She just keeps screaming.
Dr. Trent and a few nurses rush in without me even hitting the button for help and someone escorts me out, slamming the door to the room shut. I watch helplessly through the window as they try to get her to calm down, but nothing works. I can hear her screaming something similar to my name at the top of her lungs, her voice cracking and breaking. I've never heard her in so much pain. I stare in as Amelia's body goes completely limp when a nurse adds something to her IV, surely a sedative to get her to go back to sleep. It's not helpful at all but the doctors would never understand that. They would never believe the torture she endured.
I slide down the wall and pull my knees up to my chest, burying my face in my arms. I ignore the hustle and bustle of the nurses and patients and loved ones around me, just letting tears escape my eyes silently.
"Spencer? What happened?" When I lift my head, I find the team rushing towards, concern etched on their face. I wonder if they're as tired of bad news as I am. Maybe not, considering they're not dating the victim.
"Amelia is," I choke out, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hands, "she woke up and she started panicking like she did when we tried to rescue her."
JJ's face contorts into a look of anger, glancing into Amelia's room. "I bet it's because they've got her cuffed! She doesn't need to be!"
Emily's eyes widen in disbelief. "Wha– I heard you correctly? She's handcuffed to her bed right now? Like a prisoner? Absolutely not."
JJ gestures into the room for everyone to see. "The doctor said he heard about the type of torture she went through and her reaction to being saved, and that this is for her protection and the protection of the staff."
"I won't have this." Emily shakes her head, waving her hands around. "Tara and Luke, you're coming with me. We're gonna go shake some sense into these nurses and doctors. We'll be back with some keys. Hang tight."
Everyone else on the team lingers in the hallway, not daring to step into the room but not quite knowing what to say to me. I just stare down at the floor, at everyone's feet as they shuffle back and forth. Penelope comes to sit next to me but she doesn't say anything, she doesn't even try to touch me to comfort me. She just sits and offers a completely silent, hands-off comfort.
It's ten painful minutes before Emily, Luke, and Tara march back with Dr. Trent in front of them, two keys dangling in his hands. He says nothing to anyone as he walks into Amelia's room and takes off her handcuffs, then takes off the oxygen mask, which wasn't even feeding her oxygen in the first place. He double-checks a few things before leaving the room again, not giving a second look to anyone as he walks down the hallway.
I look up at Emily, probably looking like a small child talking to their mother. "Thank you,"
Emily offers me a hand to help me up, pulling me to my feet. "It's no problem. Now get in there. Doc said the sedative will wear off really soon. We're gonna stick around but we'll stay out here."
I force myself to enter the room again and sit, and the sight is just barely more bearable this time. She's not handcuffed like a criminal now and her hands are placed at her sides like she's sleeping comfortably. But I know better, and I know that within the next twenty minutes, Amelia could burst awake and start screaming again. I know better than to find beauty in the image of her looking so peaceful.
I glance outside at the team, all standing around in a circle and chatting amongst themselves. I don't have to engage my brain in any way to guess what they are talking about. There's a very small pool of options of what they can be talking about. My guess? They're wondering how they're supposed to get Amelia's statement when she's clearly not mentally stable enough to give one. It's protocol, after all, to have to get a statement detailing what happened after the team has rescued someone from abduction. But Amelia couldn't handle being awake for more than a few seconds without panicking, so how do we expect her to recall the details of her torture enough to get a valid statement?
The subtle increase in Amelia's heart monitor brings my gaze away from the window and back to her body. Her eyelids start to flutter and her fingers start to wiggle, and now that she's not cuffed, I reach out and take one of her hands into mine, intertwining our fingers.
"Hi, sweet girl," I coo, scooting my chair as close as I possibly can and leaning over, bringing my hand up to her cheek to brush my fingers over her skin. "Hi, there. Can you hear me?"
She lifts up her other hand, the one with the IVs in it, grimacing slightly at the resistance from the wires. She whimpers when she drops her hand back down and then she starts squeezing my hand even tighter. Her eyebrows furrow and her breathing starts to pick up, and when I can tell that the panic is starting to set in, I move to my feet but make sure not to move too suddenly and scare her.
"Lia, you're in the hospital, you're okay, I promise. Open your eyes, look at me. Everything is okay, you're safe. Just look at me, doll," I lay my hand flat on her cheek now, and the moment I do, I feel her relax, and her ultra-tight grip on my hand loosening. "You're okay, Lia, I promise you that. I'm right here. Just open your pretty eyes, look right at me."
Amelia's eyelids flutter again for a moment and then they slowly creep open, swirling around in circles for a moment before landing on me. The relief that fills me when I finally get to stare into her eyes is so sweet and so beautiful, but she starts to cower away from my hand, whimpering and whining, trying to turn her head.
"No, no, no," I whisper, shaking my head, "don't turn away from me. I'm right here, this is real. I'm not going anywhere. Just take a deep breath, sweetheart," I bring my hand up to her hair and brush it back behind her ears as best as I can, Amelia's eyes wide as I've ever seen them, stuck on my face.
Her eyes fill with tears, her lips parted as her breathing starts to finally slow down. "You're–" her voice is hoarse, but she presses on as if she doesn't even notice, "you're real?"
I grin down at her, nodding. "Yes, Lia, I'm real. I'm right here. Nothing else is gonna be fake anymore. Everything is real, okay? Nothing around you is made up anymore, I promise."
Relief floods Amelia's face and her lips quiver, tears pouring down her face and wetting my hand. "It's–" she raises her other hand again, resisting the weight of the wires and managing to rest her fingers on my cheeks. They threaten to fall but I quickly catch her hand and hold it there so she can keep her hand where she wants it to be. "It's over?"
"Yeah, Lia, it's over, you're coming home with me. You're safe." I sit on the edge of the bed when she tries to move closer, and she immediately sits up to hug me. Her injuries come to mind and I know that this position could be causing her a lot of pain, but I sneak a look at what medication is being administered through her IV and check what painkiller she has in her body, and I figure she's probably completely numb right now. So I let her hug me and I hug her back, tucking my face in her neck and letting myself cry out the emotions I've kept in through this whole investigation.
I feel Amelia's hands weakly pressing into my back, trying to grasp at my shirt as best as she can but she's just too weak and too tired, no matter how hard she tries. Her body trembles against mine and I wish so badly that I could just scoop her up and fly her home and lock her up in my apartment to recover, not in this stressful hospital with nurses and doctors poking and prodding her every few hours.
Amelia sniffles against my shirt, pushing herself even closer to me. "Shh, shh, take it easy, baby doll. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here. I don't want you to hurt yourself even more."
"It was so scary. I was so scared. I wanted you so bad," Amelia's sentences come out in hiccups, and I barely even understand. But I nod along, cooing in her ear and brushing my fingers through her knotty and dirty hair, pressing my other hand between her shoulder blades to keep her upright.
"I know, and I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, but I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere," I want to kiss her senseless and lay next to her and hold her against my chest and feel her curled up next to me, but I know all of that is too much. Her body is starting to tremble on double time and I know the embrace is becoming too much for her, so I slowly unravel myself, guiding her back down to the bed, laying her head delicately on the pillow. "Do you need anything? Water? Anything like that?"
She nods a bit, swallowing thickly. "Water, yeah,"
"Okay, I'll ask someone to get it. The team is outside. I don't wanna leave you," I fish my phone out of my pocket and send a quick text to Penelope, asking her to find some water for Amelia, and just a moment later, I catch her and Luke going down the hall together.
When I return my gaze to Amelia, I find her already looking at me. She looks absolutely and utterly exhausted and spent, like she wasn't unconscious and then sedated. I've never seen her so tired in the three years we've spent together, not during the times she would spend long hours at her studio or go out drinking with her friends or anything else. She can barely even keep her eyes open and her normally sparkling blue eyes are dull and gray, rimmed with red from her tears. But even though her broken appearance crushes me, I offer her the best smile I can muster up, and she tries her best to return it as she nuzzles her cheek against her pillow.
"Spencer," Amelia whispers, tugging on my hand a bit. I lean down and rest my chin against the bed to get closer to her, my face right in front of hers, my hand moving to the side of her head again. "Are you okay? Have you been sleeping?"
How insanely remarkable. She's the one laying in a hospital bed and she's asking me if I'm okay. I should be doting over her and asking her the questions, not the other way around. She's always trying to take care of me and I usually let her, but not now. I can't let that happen. So I just nod incessantly, running my thumb over her temple to relieve some of her pounding headache. "Yes, angel, I'm okay. But I don't want you to worry about me. You need to rest and heal and worry about yourself."
"Spencer," she says my name again, weaker than the first time, "I've already done this. I know what needs to happen."
I furrow my eyebrows, trying to distract her from her taxing thoughts by brushing her hair behind her ear. "What do you mean, Lia? All you need to do is focus on getting–"
"No," she shakes her head the tiniest bit, squeezing my other hand tighter, "I have to- I know I need to give a statement. I need to tell everyone what happened."
"Later," I murmur, "not right now. You need to rest. That can wait until later. I want you to drink your water when Garcia gets it and sleep some more and eat some food and– and– not right now. It can wait."
"Now," Amelia lets her eyes close and her body melts closer to mine, drawing our intertwined hands up to her other cheek. "Please, now. I wanna just– I wanna say it and then never think about it ever again."
"Lia, you can barely tell what's real and what's not. Are you going to be able to accurately recount everything that happened to you? I don't want you to try to remember your torture if it's gonna make you panic again."
"I wanna forget it, Spencer, please. Just let me do it now. Please."
I stare down at my bruised and broken girlfriend, pleading with me to let her retell the details of her torture just minutes after waking up from sedation. It's the last thing I want her to do because it truly could send her into a panic and she could completely break. Something in her mind could snap and she could be completely displaced from reality and I'll never get her back. I tried so hard to get her back and now that she's going to be okay, I don't want anything to get in the way of her recovery.
But as much as I don't want to say it, Amelia is right. The sooner she makes her statement, the sooner she can try to erase the probably-horrible images she saw during her torture. It makes sense that she would want to make her statement quickly so she could get on the road to physical and mental recovery sooner. However, even though Amelia is usually right about most things, I don't want her to be right this time.
"Could you just do me a favor first?" Amelia's eyelids flutter back open, but just barely, staring at me with her now-normal exhausted expression. "Can you just relax for half an hour? Eat some food and drink some water. You can barely keep your eyes open, doll face. You need some energy if you're gonna make a statement. The team is outside and they're not going anywhere, they can wait a half hour. Could you just do this, for me?"
"No," Amelia closes her eyes again, but she only brings our hands closer to her face. "Now."
"Amelia, listen to me," a fresh wave of tears comes to my eyes and I think she can hear it in my voice because Amelia opens her eyes again. "Let me protect you. Remember that time on the stairs after Rossi's party? When I told you it was my turn to be the protector? Well, I'm taking that role again, and I'm taking it for a while. So before you give your statement and you talk about what happened, can you please just have something to eat and rest a little?"
Amelia squirms in her curled up position, but nevertheless, she nods. "Okay, I will," and with that, she closes her eyes again, her breathing evening out.
There's a soft knock on the door and Penelope comes in, holding a tray of food with a water bottle, entering slowly with a soft smile. "Hi, friends. Is it okay if I come in?"
Amelia looks over her shoulder and lets out a groan as she rolls onto her back too harshly, but ignored the pain in her ribs as she reaches for Penelope. "Penny, baby."
Penelope grins and puts the tray down on the table, leaning over the bed to give Amelia a gentle hug. "Oh, my sweet girl, it is so good to have you back. I'm glad you're okay. I wouldn't be able to handle Spencer, Matt, Luke, and Rossi by myself. I know I've gotta JJ, Em, and Tara but you add a little spice to the mix."
I give the girls a little bit of space as they hug, whispering just a little bit before Amelia lays back down. "Well," Penelope says, pulling on the table to bring it just a bit closer to the bed, "I got you the water that was requested but I also swiped a tray of food because I'm sure you're hungry."
"Thank you," Amelia whispers, and she lifts her weighed down hand for the water bottle, but she can't quite get there, so I grab it for her and pop the cap, handing it over.
"When you're done drinking, I think you should sit up, okay? Especially if you're gonna eat," Amelia nods and takes some tiny sips from the bottle before haphazardly handing it over to me to set aside. "Hey Garcia, could you do me a favor? Could you just go and tell everyone that Amelia's gonna give her statement and tell what happened in a little bit? Probably when she's done eating."
Penelope furrows her eyebrows and glances down at Amelia rubbing her eyes and holding my hand, and when she gives me an utterly confused look, I just shrug. "Uh, yeah, of course. I'll go do that," she reaches forward to give Amelia a pat somewhere on her body, but then retracts her hand, probably having heard of her extensive injuries. And she leaves a moment later, and I see her immediately chatting to everyone on the team.
"Okay, let's get you up," I rise to my feet and push my chair away a bit, reaching for Amelia's arms. She gives me a hesitant look as she grabs onto my forearms, whining as I quickly move her to a sitting position. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry, I'm sure it hurts."
"No, it's just," she holds onto my arms for longer than I expected her to, keeping me leaning over her, "uncomfortable. Everything is uncomfy."
I frown at her, placing my hands gently at her sides as to not hurt her injured ribs. "Yeah, sweets, you've got quite a lot of injuries. I'm sorry, you might be uncomfortable for a little while."
She nods and glances towards the tray of food, dropping her hands from my arms and down to the bed, exhaling slowly. "Could you– can you help me?" She looks to the food again, not even bothering to reach for it.
"Yeah, of course," I move the table so it's hovering over her lap, and then reach forward to tear the seals off of what has them. I hand her over a little bowl of chicken noodle soup first, hoping the warm broth will soothe her obviously sore throat. And, as Penelope Garcia would say, she needs the calories.
I hand Amelia a spoon next and she gives me a little smile, bringing the bowl all the way down to her lap to dip the spoon inside. She swirls the spoon around for a moment, moving at a sloth's pace. But I watch carefully to make sure she doesn't spill it all over her lap because that's a whole situation that we don't need right. She never makes an effort to lift the spoon, just keeps it in the bowl and barely spins it around.
"Lia, do you need some help?" I reach my hands out to take the spoon from her but she grasps it tighter, shaking her head tighter, keeping her head down. My lips settle further into their frown when I retract my hands, watching her struggle to lift the spoon to her lips, barely even getting any soup into her lips. "Doll, it's not weird for me to help you like this or anything. That's all I'm trying to do– help. You know that, right? Please, let me."
She shakes her head and lowers her hand, taking a few bated breaths before trying to raise her hand up again. I just watch her do this helplessly for a minute, wishing and praying that she would let me reach forward and help her. I don't like to see her struggle like this and I want to do everything in my power to help her, even if it's just feeding her. But then I catch a glimpse of her bag that I packed in the corner of the room, and I get an idea.
I cross the room and pop open the bag, effectively bringing Amelia's attention away from her bowl. "I have some clothes for you in here," I say. "You can't get changed right now but it's for later. I brought that blanket from your couch if you get cold, just to let you know. But I also brought this," I pull out a small bag and pour its contents into my hand.
Amelia gasps, hastily putting her bowl of soup aside and reaching for her necklace, making grabby hands for it. "I thought it was gone!"
"No, no, it was in your apartment. Do you want me to put it on you?" She nods quickly, trying to sit up more, but only winces at the pressure on her ribs. "Don't move, I'll move to put it on you, silly girl," I quip, brushing her hair to the side so I can clip it around her neck, and the moment I release the chain, she lets out a relieved breath, letting her head fall onto my shoulder. It's a relief for Amelia just to have the necklace around her neck. She's not even touching it or anything of the sort. It's just there, like the tattoos she can't see. Just the weight of the silver butterfly on her chest is enough to even out her breathing and unclench her fists.
Amelia lets out a warm burst of air against my neck. "Thank you," she whispers.
"Lia, will you let me help you eat, please?" I pick up the bowl of soul and the spoon, bringing it in front of her. "You can eat something else but you need to eat. You said you would."
Amelia nods and lifts her head in the slightest, resting her back against the pillows to get more comfortable. "Okay, you good?" She nods again, just barely shifting her legs when I sit on the edge of her bed to get a better angle. I pick up the spoon and swirl it around in the soup, then I send her a smirk. "Should I make the spoon like a plane? Or a car? Would that help?"
Amelia smiles but she doesn't laugh, only reaching her fingers out to brush them against my knee. "You're cute."
///
"Okay, Amelia, you can start whenever you're comfortable."
Her grip on my hand tightens exponentially with those words, her eyes locked on the thin, white blanket on her lap. The fingers on her free hand dig into the fabric, probably causing a world of discomfort for the areas around her IV. "Are you..." she tilts her head towards me but doesn't dare to make eye contact. I have to lean closer to hear her. "You're not gonna leave, right?"
"No, I'll be right here the whole time," I say, bringing our hands up to my lips and kissing her knuckles. "I'll be holding your hand the entire time."
Amelia takes a deep breath and relaxes her grip on her free hand, but not around mine, but then starts drumming her fingers into her thigh. "Okay, well, I was at home and I was getting ready for bed and the door opened and I thought it was Spencer because he's the only other one with a key. And I was mad at him so I ignored it, and then I was upstairs and someone grabbed me and put their hand over my mouth and dragged me down the stairs. And I tried to fight them but I just– I couldn't."
"Was it one person or was it two?" JJ asks quietly, giving me a nervous look for interrupting.
But I quickly look back to Amelia, whose eyes are darting over the empty blanket, as if that would give her the answer. "Um, I'm not sure," she says it like a question, her voice pitching up at the end. "I hit my head and the next thing I remembered was waking up in a dark room with a mask on."
"You don't remember anything about the trip all the way from Virginia to Texas?" Luke asks.
"No," she shakes her head, and I notice right away she stops drumming on her leg. Maybe it was tiring her out or it was painful, but she stops and puts her hand flat against her thigh. "But then I saw Spencer and he was trying to save me, and he took off my handcuffs and he took me off the table and then–" her breathing starts to pick up and she squeezes her eyes shut, tearing her hand away from mine to press both of them against her temples, "then my dad, he just– he– he killed you! He hurt you and you died in front of me!"
"Hey, Lia, look at me," she's barely responsive, just spiraling into the alternative relativity created for her. "I'm right here, doll, look at me," I lean over her to block out the view of the rest of the team, placing my hands gently on her wrists. "I know your mind is pulling you a million ways, but you're right here, okay? I'm here and so is the team. We're all here and safe. Just remind yourself of that." Amelia's eyes track up the room until they meet my eyes, spilling over tears with her trembling fingers trying to wipe them away.
"Stay here, please," she whispers when I reach forward to take over the job of wiping her cheeks. "Don't go."
"I won't, I'll stay right here," I lean forward to kiss her forehead, hearing her let out a soft breath of relief. She whines just slightly as I shift my position to face the team, but she sinks into my chest and intertwines her fingers with mine. "Okay, like Emily said, whenever you're ready. Keep going."
"That's all that kept happening," she tells us. "He told me all about Peter Lewis and how he hates me and Cat Adams and how she hates me and how the three of them put Spencer in prison and– and–" she hesitates once again, and everyone in the room shifts uncomfortably.
Sure, these were all of our theories, but we never want our worst theories to be confirmed. I, especially, didn't ever want to have to sit and listen to my girlfriend recount the details of her torture, but here I am. Besides, Amelia has managed to worm her way into the hearts of everyone on the team, and nobody wants to hear this. We hear enough of it from strangers but it's so much worse from a loved one.
"I just kept seeing all of you get killed," her voice is so quiet and meek, the quietest I've ever heard it. Quieter than when she whispers fun facts during Christmas movies and quieter than when she tells me she loves me as we lay in bed at night. "At first, you all were getting choked and you'd scream my name and you'd call for help, and then when you were dead, I'd just..." she gulps, staring down at the floor as she starts to blank out, eyes nearly crossing and glazing over, "get dragged back to the table and someone would put the mask back on."
"Lia," I bring my hand to her cheek, manually lifting her gaze to mine, "come back to me. Right here. We're right here, remember?"
Amelia sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and wheezes as she breathes, a hand flying up to grab my wrist. "He killed my family, Spencer," she croaks, a fresh wave of tears pouring down her cheeks.
"I know, bub, I know he did. But that–"
"He shot them right in front of me," she cries, collapsing into my chest into a heap of tears. "They– They died right in front of me! I tried to save them and I couldn't! They died right there!"
"Okay, okay," I hold her against my chest, tucking her head under my chin and holding her as tight as I imagine she can bear, her hands barely even reaching around to my back, "I'm sorry, Lia. Just take a deep breath. I'm sorry."
Rossi glances around to the team, getting their attention. "Amelia is the one who found the bodies of her mother and younger brother after Kelsey shot them. When he and Scratch made her see us getting killed, it seems like he made her see her family being killed. He made her see what he wanted her to see all those years ago."
Amelia's fingernails dig into the fabric of my shirt and she squeezes her eyes shut, trying to push her head further into my neck. "Lia, what's going on?" She nearly pushes me off the bed as she tries to completely melt into me. "I need you to talk to me. What's–"
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I did it, it was me," she mumbles against the sleeve of my shirt, and when I glance up at the team, they're all waiting with bated breath to know what she's talking about.
"What did you do, sweetheart? What are you talking about?"
"He made me. He put the gun in my hand and he made me pull the trigger and there was actually blood this time! All the other blood went away so fast but there was real blood this time! I'm so sorry!"
And just as that huge bomb drops, Emily's phone rings. We find out that Amelia was forced to kill Scratch and then Emily's phone rings. How wonderful. Emily gives us all a quick look before heading out of the room, answering her phone before it stops ringing.
"It's okay, Lia, you're not in trouble. It's not your fault," I brush my fingers through her hair, trying everything I possibly can to soothe her. But the room goes silent and everyone looks the other way, giving Amelia the time she needs to calm down.
But eventually, her sobs turn to just cries and her cries turn to whimpers, and when her whimpers turn to hiccups, she lifts her head. Her face is red and she's probably overheated, silent tears still pouring out of her eyes. "Can I stop now?"
I tear my hand away from her and wipe her cheeks, offering her the best smile I can muster up. "Soon. You're almost done and you're doing so well, Lia. I think we just have a few more questions and then you'll be done."
Amelia lets her head fall back onto my chest and looks to the team, waiting for someone to ask a question. We're all hesitant though. After our worst fears and our worst imaginations have come true in the form of Amelia's torture, the last thing we need is more truths to be confirmed. But we have a job to do, even if it's with a loved one, and this is what needs to happen. However, I'm not going to be the one to do it.
"Amelia," JJ puts on her best mom voice, "did either of them ever touch you inappropriately?"
"Um," she hesitates yet again and then starts to shake her head, "I don't think so. It's– some things are fuzzy."
"Did either of them feed you? Or give you anything to drink?"
"No, never."
"Can you tell us about the burns?" Rossi asks next, gesturing to Amelia's arms.
Amelia looks directly at me, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Spencer?"
"With hot sauce on your tongue, like you told me about. But you're gonna be okay, Amelia, that's what's important."
Emily re-enters the room, her phone already tucked in her pocket. She gives everyone that look that means she means business, and I feel Amelia's body tense up against mine. Even she knows the look. So I tuck Amelia's head under my chin again and hold her as close as I can.
"I have some news," Emily says, her voice void of practically any emotions at all. "First of all, Amelia," she looks towards my girlfriend, "I trust you remember Cat Adams?"
"I wish I didn't but yes, I do. She helped with all this. I didn't know that she was someone you all arrested and someone that Spencer had–"
Emily holds her hands out to Amelia, shutting her up. "It's okay, we know you didn't know. That's not what's important. What's important is that she's dead. She was killed in her cell in prison."
"Killed? What? By who? It's a prison!" Amelia's hands tighten around my legs, holding me tighter than she had before.
"Your father, Scratch, and Cat were working with two correctional officers so they could communicate. One officer was killed when we arrested Lindsay Vaughn, and this other officer killed Cat and then killed himself. Neither you nor Spencer have to worry about her anymore. But that's not all," Emily gives one more glance to the team before letting a shred of a smile come to her face, but she hides it perfectly, "while being transferred from the police station, Damian Kelsey managed to swipe one of the officer's guns and kill himself."
There's a certain breath of relief that falls over the group at this news. Scratch and Cat have tormented this team for years, and Damian Kelsey has been nagging at my mind for years, not to mention practically ruining Amelia's entire life. So I'm not necessarily upset that he's dead or that he took justice into his own hands. I can't lie and say that I didn't want to do that myself. Why else would I have given Emily my badge?
"So," Penelope pipes up from the corner from where she's clinging to Luke's side, "Scratch, Cat, Damian Kelsey, and their two accomplices are all dead?"
"Yep," Emily nods. "There doesn't have to be a trial, Amelia doesn't need to testify and retell what she just told us. It's over. This is it. Amelia, do you have anything else to tell us?" She quickly shakes her head. "Well, then that's it, guys. The case is closed. We've got Amelia back. We've caught our guys and some level of justice has been served. Let's relax everyone, as much as we can. Amelia, you need to get better."
"Um," Amelia lifts her head from my chest, glancing around to everyone, "I just wanted to thank everyone for–"
"Amelia, please don't," Tara shakes her head. "We're just doing our job. We're just happy that you're safe and you're okay. That's all we need."
"Just focus on yourself," Matt says. "Get better and get home ASAP."
///
The rest of the day seems to drag by incredibly slow. The team either goes to the station to help the police finish up the case or to a hotel to relax. After Amelia manages to eat something for lunch, her foster family comes to visit for a while. She bears the pain when the little kids climb on the bed and hug her and doesn't complain once about a headache when the lights get turned all the way up. Her family stays for quite a while and I linger onto the background to give them space, only inserting myself heavily when Amelia has a moment of panic. But the sun sets and it's bedtime for the kids so they say goodbye and leave us alone.
As soon as it's just the two of us, I dim the lights in the room, watching Amelia sigh of relief. "Thank you so much," she whispers, sinking under the blanket and tucking her head into the pillow. "Can I have the blanket now? The one you were talking about this morning?" I dig into her bag and pull out the blanket that we're so often wrapped ourselves in on nights on her couch, and when I drape it over her lap, she smiles. "Dove, will you come lay with me?"
I look down at the bed and grimace at the small size, but how could I possibly say no? She's laying in a hospital bed with countless injuries. How could I ever say no to her cute, bruised face? So I just nod and toe off my shoes, helping her move to her normal side of the bed and then doing my best to lay down beside her. I wiggle my arm under her neck and check for signs of discomfort from her, and when I don't find any, I settle in further. I run my fingers through her hair slowly, just trying to, maybe, soothe her to sleep or just calm her down in general.
"I'm proud of you," I whisper, Amelia's eyes fluttering closed as I continue to stroke her hair the way I know she loves. "I know it's hard to have to retell what you did, but you did it so well. I'm just– I'm really proud of you."
Amelia clearly doesn't take the compliment because she just scrunches up her eyebrows, tilting her head to the side to nuzzle her nose against my forearm. "Thank you for saving me. I was really scared and I–"
"You don't have to tell me," I whisper. "You don't have to force it all out now. But listen to me," she opens her eyes, her blue eyes having gained back some of their sparkle, "when you get out of this god awful place and we get back to Virginia, I promise to you," Amelia's smile grows as I grab her other hand and bring her knuckles to my lips, "we're both packing up everything and finally moving into a house together and I refuse to let anything else get in the way of that."
Amelia giggles, the sound drowned out by cracks and squeaks from her dry throat. "That sounds good, Spence."
"And I'm finally gonna propose and we're gonna get married and we're gonna have kids and grow old together," I still my hand and rest it on her cheek, moving my head closer to her. "Doll face, no more interruptions. I'm not letting anything get in the way of us anymore."
"I love you," Amelia blurts out, craning forward to kiss the tip of my nose. "I love you so much and I love your ramblings and I love that you're laying with me and I'm so exhausted and all the painkillers they gave me are definitely wearing off."
"Okay, I get it. I'm done talking," I chuckle, dropping my hand onto the bed. "Go to sleep, Lia. I'll have to leave when visitor's hours are up, but do you want me to wake you when I leave? Just to say goodbye?"
"Yes, please, I want a kiss," she quips, finally succumbing to her exhaustion and closing her eyes. "Thank you for staying. I'm sure you're tired too."
"Shh, just go to sleep," I kiss her forehead now, watching her nod and settle further into the bed, using my arm more as a pillow than the actual pillow. I'm sure it'll go numb very quickly but I don't complain.
It doesn't take long for me to drift off too, laying there with Amelia asleep in my arms after an incredibly challenging and traumatic week. Within minutes, I'm just as knocked out as Amelia, but it doesn't last long because two nurses come in to check Amelia's vitals, murmuring about how they're going to have to ask me to leave now that visiting hours are over.
I lift my head just slightly, double-checking that Amelia is still asleep, which she is, before smiling at the two nurses. "Hi," I whisper, gently moving Amelia's arm onto her leg so one of the nurses can scan her wristband, "I know I'm here late but–"
"It's fine," one of the nurses smiles, waving her hand casually as she scans Amelia's wristband, "nevermind visiting hours. It's not a big deal. We're lax about it. Stay as long as you like. You're FBI anyway, right? Just stay. You're already tangled up," she gestures to my arm as she manages to take Amelia's temperature, getting all normal readings. "She's all good. I'll see you later."
I give the nurses a wave goodbye and then settle back down on the tiny pillow, kissing Amelia's forehead. Oddly enough, and despite the setting, it's the most relaxed I've felt in an extremely long time. All that matters is that I have Amelia by my side again. I drift off to sleep.