IVORY FELT nauseous as she entered her home, feeling like the floor was just made of jello. She grimaced, shutting her eyes tightly and immediately going back to her night with her client, his hands running all over her body. She felt her throat begin constrict into something so small that she couldn't even feel the air hit her lungs anymore. She couldn't tell whether or not if she was in more physical or mental pain.
That night, Ivory left the hotel on the brink of tears. It was so hard to keep it together on night like these where her client threw her around like some useless object. It made her hate herself afterwards, but if Ivory could say what was the worst feeling, she'd say that it was the regret she felt afterwards. Regret for that night, regret for this job, regret for herself. If Ivory could, she'd push the restart button on her life and do it again and make the right choice.
Because this wasn't the right choice. Being an escort wasn't the right choice for Ivory. It was too bad that she only found out too late.
She couldn't help but cry in the backseat of the cab on the way home—her driver didn't even give a single reassuring remark to her, which made her feel like an attention-seeking whore. A whore, just like everyone else called her.
Ivory buried her head in her hands and sobbed, the images of what her life could've been flashing through her imagination. She could've pursued her dreams of becoming a doctor, she could be saving people's lives and actually making a difference instead of this. Letting men who only needed a good fuck, just toss her around and use her. They didn't need help—they didn't need anyone. They were all the fucking same—selfish, cheaters, and misogynistic as hell.
She could had a family by now. She could've been married with a couple of kids running around the house. She could be spending the rest of her life with someone who she genuinely loved.
Ivory only began to cry harder when she imagined that man as Spencer.
It was so hard to except everything about her, and yet Spencer somehow managed to. He hung onto the good parts of her and ignored the blaring flaws that Ivory wish he'd see. She wish he'd just open his eyes and realize how much this entire thing could be hurting him. Because Ivory knew it did—she knew her being an escort hurt him.
And she hated it. She hated that he was slowly killing a part of himself to be with her. To stick around and make her happy.
She was so unhappy without him. It was clear to see that life without Spencer would just be the exact same as tonight. Her, entering her home with tears running down her face, exhaustion set in her bones.
But Ivory paused when she saw that the lights in her bedroom were on. The woman gulped hard and quickly wiping her tears away, peering through the crack of the door. She felt nothing but dread when she recognized the obnoxious chewing sounds and the messy mop of brown on his head. On any other day, she'd be so happy so see him, but not tonight. Not tonight, because all he was was a reminder of everything she could have if she wasn't an escort.
"Spence," She muttered in a hoarse voice, opening the door as Spencer peered up at her. The bright and happy grin that made its way up to his face made her own eyes well up with tears—he just looked so happy. And Ivory couldn't believe for one second that she was the one making him so happy.
The man was still dressed in his suit from work—most likely because he knew Ivory loved to see him in his work clothes. Spencer also had a bag of chips on his stomach which he chomping away on as he watched some nerdy documentary on her tv.
"Hey babe." Spencer said nonchalantly, the overtly casualness in his voice making her laugh softly. He didn't seem to realize her state yet.
"You're early." Ivory said softly, forcing a small smile on her face. She didn't come near as Spencer expected, not jumping in his arms nor smothering him with kisses, either. He paused, furrowing his eyebrows as he took in her appearance. Something was wrong.
She looked exhausted. Underneath the concealer beneath her eyes, Spencer saw the hints of green and purple peeking through. He squinted when he noticed the red-rims around her eyes, the whites of them clearly bloodshot and red. Spencer's smile immediately fell, his heart falling. Was she crying?
"The case ended okay..." Spencer muttered, his voice trailing off. "Ivy, are you—"
"I'm gonna head for the shower." She said quickly, giving him a fake smile that Spencer easily caught on to. He pursed his lips together at her raw and vulnerable features that weren't sassily snapping at him for once. Her spunk and confidence wasn't there like he remembered.
"Wouldn't want you to smell like an old man." Ivory said bitterly, abruptly turning away. Spencer's eyebrows dipped, noticing the hatred in her voice. She wasn't okay.
Ivory let the water run down her back, letting out a soft sigh. She rubbed her eyes, feeling light headed from crying so hard. The woman felt her legs wobble the tiniest bit, easing herself down into the bathtub as the water poured onto the top of her head.
Who knew how long she had stayed like this before Spencer knocked softly on the bathroom door. Ivory guessed probably a while.
"Ivory, are you okay?" He asked from the other side.
Those three words coming from Spencer Reid was all she really needed to break. Ivory responded with something along the lines of "no—I don't know—" But they were all muffled by the frenzy of her crying, sobbing, and gasping on lack of air. Ivory dug her fingernails into her calves to distract herself from the mental the pain, still curled up in a ball. It was so pathetic of her to cry like this—she didn't want Spencer to see her as this weak little thing. But at this point it didn't matter anymore.
The door immediately opened at the sound of her, and Spencer stood from the other side of the shower curtain, frozen and heart aching at the sound of her crying. Seeing her like this was the hardest for him—Ivory was such a happy, bubbly person that when she cried, it really felt like the world was ending for him.
"Ivy..." He said softly, yanking the curtain away as the wall between the two individuals disappeared. Spencer reached down, turning off the water and grabbing one of her robes before stepping inside the bathtub, draping it over the trembling woman. Ivory avoided his tender gaze as he kneeled before her, immediately brushing her wet hair away from her face.
Spencer peered at her face, his heart tearing into pieces at the tears streaming down her rosy cheeks, her mouth curled up and emitting choked out sobs. Her face said everything—she didn't want to talk about it.
He wrapped an around around her shoulder, sitting next to the woman as Ivory melted into his body, her face burying deep inside his chest, muffing her loud cries. Spencer let his hand brush through her hair, resting his chin on top of her head. He wanted to cry seeing her like this. He couldn't tell if he was more upset or angry. He wanted to fall apart, watching her do so. But he knew he couldn't because he had to put her back together. He needed to help her. He needed to make whoever caused her this much pain...to die.
And that wasn't an exaggeration. Hatred ran through his veins at the thought of someone hurting Ivory Arden. Because...she was precious to him—she was so special that all he ever wanted to do was just shelter her from everything possible.
"I'm right here." He murmured softly to the woman. Spencer truly didn't know what to say. He was being crushed by too many emotions at once; he couldn't figure out the best tactical way to help the woman in his arms. All he could do was let her know that he was with her, forever.
"It's okay to cry, love. Please cry." Spencer murmured softly, suddenly thinking of statistics because he knew those amused her. "Did you know, it's scientifically proven that crying really does make you feel better? Scientists did this experiment where they made people watch sad things for 60 minutes, and the ones who cried report feeling significantly better than before they watched it." He whispered.
Ivory's cries softened a little at his quiet voice, the woman wanting to hear him. She gripped onto his dress shirt for dear life, choking back another sob when she thought about how expensive his blazer probably was.
"In addition, crying produces oxytocin and endogenous opioids, otherwise known as endorphins. They ease both physical and emotional pain." Spencer said, running his hand up and down her back. "Just let it all out, Ivy. It's just me here." He muttered softly, "you know that I'll be here no matter what, right?"
Ivory made a small sound in response, continuing to cry into his shirt as Spencer held her close, still talking.
"It's me and you, always. Us versus the world—" He smiled, chuckling softly, the sound hitting close to her eardrums because of how her head rested on his chest. "The world sucks sometimes, and it also sucks when we have to be the ones to clean it up. Ivory, I really respect what you do, you know? And I'm serious...if I wasn't, why would I still be here?" Spencer asked her, "I treasure you, and everything you do. And I just want to be by your side forever." He whispered softly.
Ivory wailed even harder at his words, her heart aching with the worst combination of guilt and happiness.
"I would do anything to fix what you're going through right now. But I can't do that, and I don't want to change you, Ivory. You will always be perfect to me, no matter what, and I don't want to ever make you change. Because you're just—you're worthy and perfect just the way you are." Spencer said softly, "you know. Even if you decide tomorrow to shave your head into a mohawk—I would still see you as the most beautiful woman on this planet. You're irreplaceable." He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
Ivory forced out a croaky half-chuckle at his sweet words, her heart going completely warm. She was so happy that she started crying once again, but at least everything was just so warm. She almost felt numb to the cold, not shivering against Spencer's body anymore. He noticed this, but still had his arms around her tightly to keep her in the warm cocoon he held her inside of. Ivory had never felt more safe in her entire life.
"You know I'll always be here for you, right?" He asked her, peering down at the woman. Ivory let out a shaky exhale in response, and he leaned his head back against the tile wall. "You make me so happy...and I don't ever want to be with anyone else."
Ivory's eyes fluttered closed as she let the words settle in, distracting her from the pain momentarily. It worked—it really did. Spencer was giving her one more thing to hold onto so she held onto it for dear life.
There was a small silence, the only thing heard
being Ivory's shallow breathing and sniffles now. Spencer closed his eyes, allowing himself to think for a moment. He just wanted her to be happy—but he didn't know where to start, what to say, what to do to help. He could say all the good things to her but it wouldn't compare to takinf action.
"...I don't want to do it anymore, Spence." She finally said softly, her voice hoarse and rough.
"Then don't." Spencer responded casually, his lack of reaction reassuring Ivory more than anything else. Because he didn't show relief, happiness, anything—it only proved to Ivory that her being an escort never interfered with how he felt for her in the first place. That he liked her for her, and that all the controversial components never mattered. And that...that made her so happy.
"I don't know what to do." Ivory murmured softly, already panicked at the thought of it.
"There's a lot of things you can do, Ivy." He said, his voice tender and soft like butter. "I'll help you through it. It's not easy, but I promise you I will do whatever it takes to make you happy."
Ivory bit her lip, another sob rising in her throat. She let some of it out, dropping her face back into his chest. Those words. Those words that sounded so pure, so raw and real that it almost felt too good to be true. That Spencer Reid was this kind and loving to her. That any man was this kind and loving to her. She had never felt something like this, ever.
And at that moment, Ivory realized that Spencer Reid was probably the most important person to ever walk into her life. In fact—he was the only thing that helped her get out of bed in the morning. He was the only person who didn't see her as some kind of toy, some kind of object to play around with. He was the liked her for who she was and not for her body. and Ivory knew that was what she fell for. She fell for his genuine self and the respect he held for her. She fell for Spencer because he wasn't like any man she'd ever been with.
"I love you." Ivory said quietly, breaking the silence once more. The confession was raw, her voice was raw, and Ivory's face was raw and still wet tears. She didn't feel her heart skip a beat at all—the woman was calm, knowing those three words were nothing but true and that she didn't need to be anxious about his response. Because that's now Spencer made her feel—like everything was okay, and that she could be whoever she wanted, say whatever she wanted to.
And for the first time in a while, Ivory felt like she was at peace. She was at peace with him here—she wasn't afraid of feeling love and not afraid of loving someone. She didn't need to worry about a rejection, or a strange look, because she knew Spencer loved her too. She knew before he told her as well.
"I love you more, Ivy."
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