AN: timeladyanatonks- Lord of the Flies isn't a "great book," but it's something that I'm afraid I'll never forget. I didn't even know there was a movie :P. thanks for reviewing! :)
Warning, it does get sappy... But it's nothing too bad.
And if you're not familiar with the chronology of the series, we're now at 5x01.
Reviews are appreciated :) Enjoy the chapter!
"Those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love; it is the faithless who know love's tragedies." ~ Oscar Wilde
There were so many variables against me, but I was still winning. Nathan wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to me because now I can cope.
Changing the dressings on my wound, it was healing. Slowly, the burn was healing, one day all of it would vanish into a splotch of pink. Instead of taking it one day at a time, I was living for that one day.
My phone buzzed on my side table, and Garcia's picture illuminated on the cell phone screen. "Hello?" I answered, trying to decide whether picking up the phone was a good thing or a bad thing.
"What are you doing Sunshine?" she interrogated, sounding out of character. Her voice was tinted with remorse, something that didn't happen often, something was wrong.
Cutting to the chase, I bluntly questioned, "What's wrong?"
After Garcia's fountain of information, I told her I'd be in Quantico within the hour. It was illegal to drive that fast, not only illegal-but borderline unholy-quite frankly though, I needed to be there. Running around the house, my tendons aching, I found my gun and my creds.
Quickly stripping down and changing into more comfortable clothes, I grabbed my bag and fled to my car. As promised, I was jogging into Penelope's office by the hour. "Sweet Jesus, Flo!" she scolded, noticed my exhaustion. My chest rose and fall as I panted, trying to catch my breath, my tendons set ablaze all down my back.
Catching my breath, I gazed at all the screens, "I read your emails on the way down, and I must say I am so lucky to be alive."
"Florence Adrian!" she reprimanded me.
Reid was lying somewhat elevated in his hospital bed. He wasn't sitting up enough to read, but he was up to a comfortable, reclining, position. "We've got to stop meeting like this," I commented as I strode inside his room. In order to be closer to him, I relocated a chair, placing it right next to the edge of the bed.
"Garcia told me about your reckless driving," he extended his hand to delicately tuck hair behind my ear. IVs ran on the back of his palm, but that didn't stop him from showing affection. Lovingly he cupped one side of my face, gently rubbing his thumb over my cheek; his face was plastered with pain. "I was disappointed, but then I realized I'd be able to see you again," he sweetly smiled.
"Spencer," I removed his hand slowly from my face. He caught notice of my eyes, and looked relieved himself. "Please, you don't have to do that right now," I blushed. Any other time, he would've exploded, and we would be at it like cats and dogs. But, his pain was in fact that dreadful. Reid knew I wasn't being fresh and only courteous. "You look absolutely pitiful," I ran my fingers through his knotted locks.
His knee wasn't cast and only a flimsy bandage wrapped around the joint. Retrieving the comb from the counter, I began working through the intricately matted curls. "Pain's only a theory," he commented, obviously fighting the urge to swat my hand away. Instead, he let me comb through his hair, knowing it was the only way I could show fondness at this point.
Working out a rather fickle knot, with much cringing on Spencer's side, I perplexed, "That doesn't mean it doesn't exist." Spencer gave me a look to communicate bitterly sarcastic, 'Thanks.'
Finally as I was about to get the tricky tangle out, Spencer snapped, "Don't pull on it too hard!" Ignoring him, I yanked the final snarl out, "Flo, I don't want to be bald!" he exclaimed. Snickering, I ran the comb through his scalp again.
"I'm all done now," I iterated, sounding too motherly for my comforts. A nurse came in and began running through Reid's vitals, making chit chat with both of us, then a doctor entered.
He looked very experienced, seeing his name tag; I identified him as head surgeon. He began explaining what was wrong with Spencer's knee, how the bullet shattered parts of his kneecap. Then, the medicine doctor began telling Reid about the tests he had to do very quickly. "Does this hurt Dr. Reid?" he questioned, trying to get Spencer's leg to lift straight into the air.
As soon as the doctor's grip went around Spencer's thin calf, he latched onto my hand. Squeezing it, he bellowed in pain, "Of course it does!" he smartly answered the doctor, who then laid his knee back down gently. Spencer was biting his tongue in order too- at least from my preception- rudely scream choice words at the doctor. The doctor apologized and excused himself as a nurse began fetching ice and apologizing excessively. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Between the face and the sound that emitted from his throat, it was sickening to me to witness that sort of pain, "It hurts so much," he admitted with a slight quaver to his words.
Taking a few deep breaths, he moved his face over to the other side of the pillow. "I believe you," my voice cracked. Repositioning his head so his eyes focused on the ceiling, a thin glossy layer of sweat beaded his forehead, his clammy palm still laced around mine.
"Stupid ibuprofen isn't working," he complained. Snatching a few tissues, I began dabbing the sweat from his forehead. "He already knows I broke it, so why do it again?" Reid whined, loosening the grip on my hand as soon as he noticed how tight it was. "Sorry," he shook his head.
"Don't be," I tucked hair behind his ear similar to what he did when I first came in.
Spencer nestled his head to the side, closing his eyes, but I could tell he wasn't in the right frame of mind to sleep. "Your shoulder doing okay?" he questioned.
Shaking my head, I stifled a few laughs; he was really concerned about me? "It's fine, but please worry about you," I insisted.
"Well, I can do that in my thoughts," Spencer remarked, staring at me with glistened eyes. It put me in his position simply by watching him writhe in pain. This was emotional torture.
Being buzzed into Reid's apartment, I opened the door to find him sprawled out in the recliner, his long legs dangling off of the end of the furniture. "What a pleasant surprise," Reid explained rather sarcastically. Rolling my eyes, I sat the box of cupcakes on the kitchen island. Returning back into the living room, his arms extended as if asking for a hug.
Accepting his hug, it was much like the one he gave me when he was plagued with anthrax—tight, passionate, and loving. Reid pressed his head into the crook of my neck and planted featherweight invisible kisses on it. Sighing in content, I wondered when he was going to let go but I wasn't necessarily anticipating it. For a split second I pondered what we were. Were we significant others? Was I simply his mistress? Was he my rebound?
I hoped that he wasn't my rebound, which would be completely inexcusable, the premier form of treachery. "I have a fondness for you Flo," he whispered into my ear sending goose bumps down my shaking arms. "Do I make you nervous?" he retracted and threw in a couple of dry laughs.
"Very nervous," I admitted, sitting down on the leather couch positioned near to his chair. He blushed at my confession. Much to my insistence, he removed himself from his post on the recliner to come and sit beside me on the couch.
Tapping my fingers awkwardly on my knee, I was stopped when Spencer began to kiss me- Straight up on the lips. My first instinct was to laugh, but then I deemed that impeccably rude. It positively surprised me how intense he was making this. "Jesus Spencer," I muttered with a quick giggle before he pulled away.
Never will I ever become accustomed to waking up in his bed.
Ever.
It happened again, sober this time, whether that be less moral or not... I'm not the judge. Sitting up slowly, the fabric of the shirt I refused to take off pulled at me; thankfully Spencer didn't rouse at my alertness. I had to think about this all. Spencer and I couldn't be sleeping around all the time. Not only were our jobs at stake, our reputations, and his knee- there were so many factors that could be shattered by this whole affair.
Not to mention it was a dead end unless one of us decided against the BAU. I don't want to leave the Bureau and I don't want to rob Spencer of the job he loves. But then again, I don't want to risk this. We have chemistry—poorly planned chemistry—but it's something nonetheless.
There were too many morals, too many risks and apprehensions, and too many negatives that outweighed the severely rewarding positives. It's just my luck.
Watching him peacefully sleep beside me, I couldn't take it. Silently rising from the bed I journeyed to the bathroom to take a much needed shower. Delicately, the water cleansed my thoughts, the serenity actually allowed me to think about it. Spencer was in the living room, in his chair, "We never wake up together," he observed. To avoid answering that question, I retrieved my phone from my bag lying on the table.
Twenty Three missed calls.