There was nothing more boring for Spencer Reid than being stuck in a hospital bed. There was just nothing for him to do. He wasn't one for television. Sure, his friends brought him books, but when you can read twenty thousand words per minute, a stack of books doesn't really last that long. To bring him enough books to keep him entertained for even a day would require far more books than the hospital was probably willing to allow him to have lying about in his hospital room. The team tried their best, though. They came to see him in shifts and each new shift brought in new books or puzzle books and they'd take away the old ones for him. They'd stay and visit a while, as best as they could, in their effort to help entertain him. But after three days here, Spencer was ready to break out just to go home. Unfortunately, they weren't quite ready to release him yet, and he knew he wasn't really ready to be home alone. At least not by medical standards.
Spencer laid his head back against the pillows. Once again, he found his thoughts going back over the case that had put him in this bed. He remembered coming in to work thinking that it was going to be just like any other day and finding out just how wrong he was. The offices had been turned into a command center for what he soon discovered was an anthrax scare. As bad as that was, nothing really prepared him for just how close to home this case would hit. Not until he stood inside of that little room with the broken vial on the ground and the air blasting. He'd shut the door in just enough time to keep Derek out and keep his friend from getting infected.
Even with his career at the BAU, there had only been a handful of times in Spencer's life where he'd truly felt as if he were going to die. Where his quick brain had actually stalled on him, or run out of options, and he'd been forced to face the fact that he might actually die. This had been one of those times. Oh, he'd never really stopped trying. He'd worked the case, worked the profile, even if he'd had to relay information through a phone to his teammates outside. He'd kept working. When he faltered, Derek had been there to remind him to keep trying, and he had. He'd done his job. And in the end, he'd won. Dr. Kimura had found the antidote hidden somewhere innocuous, just as Spencer had suggested. She'd found it in just enough time to save not only his life, but the lives of others too. At the same time she was saving her patients, the rest of the team had found their Unsub and had stopped him from killing anyone else.
The case was done, their bad guy locked away, and their victims starting to recover. Everything was better. Yet Spencer couldn't stop thinking about it. He couldn't stop thinking about just how close to death he'd actually come. Close enough that he'd called Penelope while he was in that little room and he'd had her record a final goodbye for his mother.
No, he didn't want to think about that. Not now. Not anymore. He was here, he was alive, and that was what mattered. Right? Right.
Spencer pushed up off his bed and sat up on the edge, his legs hanging off the edge. He thanked God that they'd taken him out of the stupid dress and put him in a pair of hospital pants and shirt. Much better than sitting around in that stupid dress all the time. It gave him the freedom to get up and move. Granted, his movement was restricted right now. The anthrax had really done a number on his lungs and too much movement—hell, too much breathing—had him wheezing and gasping for air.
As he sat there wondering what it was he was going to do to entertain himself, the door to his hospital room started to open, bringing his head up. At that point Spencer was willing to take even the presence of a doctor or nurse. Anyone to help break up this monotonous boredom.
The door opened the rest of the way and Spencer froze when he saw the person who came storming in. It was the last person he'd expected to see here. Yet, at the same time, he wasn't in the least bit surprised. He felt countless emotions in that split second, but none of them were surprise. He just sat there and stared as Remy LeBeau came storming into the room and straight towards him. There was concern and temper both in his expression. That look was so familiar that Spencer found himself wanting to smile. It wasn't the laughing, charming look that was generally there, though he wore that look often around Spencer. No, it was this concerned and angry look that was so familiar and even comforting to the genius. It seemed to frequently be how Remy felt around Spencer. That could have something to do with the fact that he always seemed to be there at the hard points in Spencer's life. Whenever he was seriously hurt or in some kind of trouble, Remy was there.
Spencer let his smile grow. "Rem."
"Can't y' stay outta trouble fo' five minutes?" Remy demanded. He stopped right in front of Spencer and crossed his arms over his chest. His glare grew a little stronger. That was a look that had probably frightened countless people over the years, and with good reason. Pissing off the infamous Gambit wasn't a smart or safe thing to do. Spencer, however, just smiled even more. He had nothing to fear from this man and he knew it. "Can you?" He countered Remy's statement.
The man snorted and shook his head. "Were y' even planning on calling me?"
"When I got home." Spencer knew what was coming next and he held up a hand to stop it. "There wasn't anything you could've done but freak out. Much like you're doing right now. There's no real purpose to it. I was going to wait until I was okay and back home before letting you know so you wouldn't have to worry."
"I always worry. Y'r a hazard to y'rself." The familiar words were said with a hint of humor to them. Yet Spencer knew he wasn't joking. Remy always seemed to worry about him. Unless he was right there by his side, the man worried. There was nothing Spencer could do to stop it.
On principal, he wanted to argue the statement. But arguing that he wasn't a hazard while he was sitting in a hospital bed just seemed a little ridiculous. Instead, he settled for shrugging one shoulder and letting his lips curve a little more. "How did you find out, anyways?" He asked.
Remy rolled his eyes. "Someone I know passed de information along. We was already in town, so I hurried on over. Figured I better see what de hell was going on, seeing as how y' hadn't bothered to call and tell me anyt'ing."
This time it was Spencer's turn to roll his eyes. "I am fine, Rem. Just a little longer and they'll let me go home."
"What happened to y'?"
That was the question Spencer wanted to avoid. Legally, he couldn't answer that question. But Remy wasn't the type of guy to just let it go. If he didn't find out from Spencer then he'd find out from somewhere else. He was connected enough to find out, too. Trying to stall, Spencer shook his head and started to slip out of bed. He hated the fact that he had to actually hold on to the railing to make sure he was going to be steady on his feet before he could let go. While better than a few days ago, most of Spencer's body still felt like he had the deep set aches that came with the flu. It made movement quite a pain, especially with the fact that he wasn't taking narcotics to ease it. "Excuse me for a second." He gestured across the room with one wave of his hand. "I was just heading across the room before you came in. Make yourself comfortable, if you wish. I'll be back out in a minute." As far as evasion tactics went, it was a weak one, but he'd take what he could get right now.
He moved away before Remy could reach for him, though he was honestly surprised that Remy didn't try to chase after him and help him walk. He just stood back and let Spencer go, though it took him longer than it should've just to cross the room, and even longer to actually use the bathroom. By the time Spencer washed his hands and was stepping back out of the room, he was regretting getting up at all. His chest ached deep down inside and his breath was already starting to wheeze. There was no way he was going to be able to hide this. Well, best get it over with. He opened the door, shut the bathroom light off, and started to make his way back out. It only took two seconds before Remy's scowl melted away and he started moving towards Spencer. "Merde, cher, y' look like hell."
"Gee, thanks." Spencer wheezed out. The sound of his voice only made Remy even more concerned. The Cajun quickened his steps. When Remy took hold of his arms, bracing him up, Spencer tried to swat his hands away and keep moving on his own. But he drew in too deep of a breath and the familiar tickle rose up in the back of his throat. He couldn't stop it as the cough worked its way up and out of him, bending him double with the force of it. The only thing that kept him on his feet was Remy. One arm wrapped around Spencer's back and the other banded across his chest to provide him with support as Spencer bent and coughed roughly. He gripped the arm against his chest and tried to hold himself together as the cough ran through him and the pain leapt to life in the form of thousands of little knives stabbing at his chest and throat.
The grip around him shifted and Spencer found himself moving forward. He trusted to Remy's arms and just walked. A second later he was sat down on the bed with Remy still holding that one arm over his chest. As Spencer tried to suck in air, tried to breathe, he found a mask suddenly pressed over his mouth. He reached up and took hold of it, gasping in his effort to draw the air in. Once he held the mask, Remy's hand went to his back and started to rub in firm strokes. "Just relax, Spence. Y' fight it, it's gonna hurt worse. C'mon now, I got y'."
It took a few minutes before the cough finally started to fade away. By then, Spencer was slumped against Remy's chest. His cheeks were wet from the tears that had fallen with the force of his coughing. His whole body felt sore and tired. He closed his eyes and let himself breathe the clean oxygen for a little longer. Then he drew the mask down once more. "Thanks." He said hoarsely.
"So, still wanna tell me how fine y'r doing?" Remy asked sarcastically.
Spencer weakly smacked a hand against Remy's chest. "Shut up. Too tired…to argue with you." He paused and drew in a slow, careful breath, trying to prevent the cough he still felt tickling at his throat, threatening to come back. "I can't tell…you. It's…classified."
"Fine. I'll find out on m' own, den."
Those weren't idle words, Spencer knew. He just couldn't seem to bring himself to really care. Not when he was so damn sore and tired and Remy was warm and solid here in front of him. Coughing bouts like that always sapped his energy like he'd run a marathon and left him feeling like he could sleep for a week.
Spencer turned his face in against Remy's chest just a little more and let himself breath in the familiar motley of scents that always clung to his friend. Cigarette smoke, laundry soap, that cologne that he had custom made for him, and if Spencer burrowed in a little more, drew in a little deeper breath, he could catch the faint scent that was purely Remy as well as an underlying scent that made him think of thunderstorms, a faint hint of ozone that told him Remy had used his powers recently. Maybe to others it would've been a strange mix of scents. To Spencer, they spelled out safety and comfort. Security. Home? Maybe. Was there anywhere that felt more at home to him than here in Remy's arms? The man was the dearest friend that Spencer had ever had. There was no one in his life—no one, not even the team—that he trusted more. No matter the time or distance that got between them, no matter how frustrated Remy could look with him sometimes, here was always going to be safe for him. These arms would always be there to hold him if he needed them. For the first time since this whole ordeal had started, Spencer honestly and truly felt like he was safe again.
He felt Remy shift a little and suddenly the oxygen mask was being lifted back to his mouth. He moved his hand off of Remy's chest just enough to swat at the mask. He didn't want that. He made a small sound, very much not a whimper, and he burrowed in just a little more until his face was hiding behind Remy's jacket edge as if he were a child sheltering from the world.
"Y'r still wheezing, Spencer." Remy told him in a voice that held both gentleness and firmness in equal measure. He felt Spencer shake his head and let out a deep sigh. "I swear, y'r like a giant kid sometimes. Or a stubborn ass. I aint sure which one." Still, despite his words, his hand stroked soothingly up and down Spencer's spine. He let out another sigh and gave Spencer a small squeeze. "At least let me sit down. Every time y' snuggle in like dis, y' end up falling asleep, and I'm not after standing here fo' a few hours while y' nap."
That was an order Spencer could easily comply with. He straightened up and watched as Remy moved around him and didn't even hesitate to climb right up into the hospital bed. Spencer knew just how much Remy hated hospitals. Still, he had never once left Spencer alone in one when he was able to be there. None of his discomfort showed on his face as he settled in against the raised back of the bed. Spencer waited until those long arms opened up and he quickly scrambled into the bed and let himself be caught and firmly tucked in against Remy's chest. This time it was Spencer's turn to let out a sigh. Remy's arms folded around him tightly and Spencer buried his face once more into the chest in front of him. Another sigh, this one of contentment, triggered a small cough that luckily didn't turn into more. Remy stroked his back through it and murmured soothingly until it faded. Even when it was gone, he kept up the steady movement of his hand. "Go to sleep, Spencer. We'll talk about dis later." A soft kiss was pressed against the crown of Spencer's head. "You just get some sleep. I'll stand watch over you."
Spencer was still smiling as he followed the gentle order and let himself drift off to sleep.