I own nothing.
I watched this epidsode earlier and for some reason the interactions between Spencer and Derek lit something fangirly in me. This was the result.
It's a stand alone piece. There will be no additions.
"He's going to kill himself, and then the hostages."
He's going to kill himself, and then the hostages.
He's going to kill…the hostages.
He's going to kill Reid.
I could only stand there in a moment of dumbfounded shock at Gideon's words. I told the kid I didn't want him on that train and he argued that it had to be him. I told him not to take off that damned vest and it's the first thing he removes once on board.
They have to know going after the hostages is only going to make for a bad, bad situation.
Then I hear his voice, that voice that can drive me up a wall.
He starts rambling and relating and then he moves closer. I can't move; I can hardly breathe.
Gideon's telling Reid not to make it worse, not to push the guy holding the gun.
Gideon's gone in moment and I, I want to go with him, shove him out of the way and get on that train and take that stupid, scrawny, genius into my arms and never let him go.
My eyes are glued to the screen as the altercation starts and then that sound, that crisp, loud, bang that's the chilling tell of a gunshot, renders me momentarily devoid of my senses.
I feel JJ maneuver me into an empty chair and she keeps her hand on my shoulder as she watches Gideon rush onto the train, taking in the scene that injured two brilliant minds—"he's okay Derek. It wasn't him, Spence is okay."
She repeats herself a few times before I finally come back to the moment. My eyes zeroing in on that screen; Reid standing over the injured unsub, his eyes locked onto Gideon who has his gaze locked on something over Reid's shoulder. I finally hear the words she's been repeating to me just as much as herself.
Hotch steps in demanding we do our jobs; ever the professional. I barely get a glimpse of Reid as he walks off with Elle.
It's not till a few hours later, after all the questioning's been done and Reid has word that both Doctors will be alright. He's sitting on a chair in one of the waiting rooms. I take a seat next to him.
"I asked to remain behind and wait for you to finish. Gideon and Hotch agreed it was late; we'll debrief tomorrow morning first thing. They left a few minutes ago."
He's tense; nervous, anxious and yet there's some relief in his posture.
"I, I know you're not happy with me and I, I know that you hate seeing me in situations like today, but, but I have to learn. I'm, I'm glad that you care."
I wanted to do a lot just then. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to hit him. I was slightly freaking out that I wanted to press myself to his side and mold us together and bury my face in the crook of his neck.
I settled on placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a slight squeeze.
"I hate feeling helpless in this job Spencer. I've found I hate it even more when that helplessness is centered on you."
"Morgan, I, I—"
"Look, I get it. I'm out of line, and sorry for invading your space. Come on Pretty Boy, let's get you home."
I removed my hand and stood up; his hand grasping my wrist stopped me. He stood slowly, invading my personal space—I forget he's slightly taller than me. Not by much, but as he's moving closer, I feel his hand slide up my arm, the other encircling around my waist and before I realize it, he's gently pressing my head into the crook of his neck.
I instantly have my arms around him, pulling him closer and breathing in the scent of him. Nuzzling the soft skin of his pale neck, inhaling the smell of salty skin, slight sheen of sweat, old books, and something I couldn't identify. His arms encircled me tighter and I felt the soft ghosting of his breaths as he barely, audibly whispered in my ear.
"I hate feeling helpless when it comes to you too."