Thanks go to all reviewers who sent a review or added me to their various lists. Huge thanks to MorbidMuch who very kindly walked me through her betaing!
So this would be chapter two. Let me know what you think.
Remember know nothing, own nothing.
***
She didn't really know what was worse.
Waiting out there or waiting in here.
Out there, other people fed your tension, creating a cycle of worry and apprehension. But in here, all the machines and tubes gave you a sense of intimidation and helplessness.
But she waited – her hand carefully entwined with his, trying to convey her love, hope and need for him.
Though, none of this inner turmoil showed on her face. He didn't need to be worrying about her when he woke up. He would already feel guilty about being shot, making her worry, spending the night at the hospital.
She must have fallen asleep in the ugly mustard coloured armchair, smelling faintly of wet dog she thought. For when she woke up, the lights had been turned down, the blinds closed and only faint murmurs from the corridor could be heard.
She looked at Spencer in the bed, so scrawny she mused… and so very, very pale. The Doctor had explained it to her, blood loss and… and his immune system fighting, giving herself a sharp nod remembering.
Before she realised, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her unoccupied palm touching the side of his face. Slowly she traced down from his temple to his jaw, over his eyelids to his nose and finally using her fingers to outline his mouth, reassuring herself that he was real and wasn't leaving her.
She stayed like that for awhile, repeating the action until a nurse came in to take his stats and give her a brief update.
She smiled her thanks, and returned to the ugly chair, keeping her hand firmly entwined in his.
The next time she woke up, it was because she could feel someone's intense gaze. Her eyes slowly fluttered awake and looked up to see that finally, finally he was awake.
Standing up and feeling her body give a sigh of relief at both the good news and the movement, she bit her lip in an effort to control her emotions before kissing the knuckles of the hand still in hers.
"Hey" he rasped, "I missed you."
With a tear sliding down her cheek, she leans into his shoulder and whispers- just so he can hear "Me too".
She pulls back to look at him, to reassure herself that he really is alright. He catches her look and gives a slight chuckle, "Really, I'm good. It was a through and through. I'm a little hazy but they shouldn't have worried you so much and called you in", he says slightly breathless due to the effort.
She stares at him- trying to remember that it is the pain responsible for the idiotic comment, and simply says "You needed me, where else would I be?"
His eyes were starting to close again, but he fought the urge and opened them fully to really look at her.
The slight apprehension and anxiety on her face she thought she was hiding, the dark circles under her eyes from a restless sleep and crumbled work clothes attesting to just how long she had been here.
And suddenly he needed her.
Needed to feel her, her scent, her touch, her voice, her love.
Using his hand he tugged her closer, gently urging her to lay beside him, opposite to his injury. As she stretched out beside him, his arm wrapped tightly around her, her head on his chest and his nose in her hair, gently nuzzling. He could feel the need become less urgent.
They stayed like that before she started moving "I should go tell you team". In response he wrapped his arm tighter, forcing her to move or overbalance and hurt him. "Later, just stay here with me" and as she settled once again, they lapsed into silence thinking over the terrifying day.
They both knew she wanted to say please, please don't ever do this to me again. But she couldn't and he couldn't promise her that. To do would be to deny who he is.
He is loyal. He is a protector. He believes in justice.
And it meant one day he might just not come home.
And one day her heart just might finally shatter.
***
Wasn't that fun?