Early that morning, Bianca woke in a slight state of panic, forgetting where she was and how she got there. But the warmth emanating from the body next to her, the strong arms wrapped around her, brought back the memories of the previous night. She opened her eyes slowly to see Reid, sleeping so peacefully. He could've died, and she suspected that they would be working through some of his most persistent demons for the next few weeks. They'd done it before, chasing down the monsters haunting each other's pasts. All that mattered was that he was still here, he was still alive, and they were still together. She moved a little closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He sighed ever so softly, stirring to consciousness beside her.

"Good morning," she said. He looked down at her with a small smile, analyzing the situation; the way he held her, how close she was to him, the quiet beeping of a heart monitor nearby.

"Morning," he replied. "Is everything okay?"

Bianca nodded. "I'm fine. How are you feeling though?"

"My head hurts a little, and my thoughts feel sort of slow and muddled… but you're here," he added.

"And I'm not going anywhere. Unless you want me to?"

Despite the weariness still plain on his face, his gaze was steady, certain. "Course not. Why would you think that?"

The echo of quiet mumblings, apologies muttered to other people, still played in her head; a tape of things she would rather forget. "I know there's still a lot you're working through after Maeve. And I just wonder if I made things worse by rushing into things with you." After all, she'd spoken first that day in the park. Perhaps those sentiments should have remained silent.

There were troubles he still had to battle, and the only person capable of knowing when he was ready to move forward was Reid himself. Things had been jumbled between them in the last few months, the last thing she wanted to do was make them more so. "You're right to say that I'm still figuring things out," he mused. "But I don't need to figure out how I feel about you. I told you I loved you, and despite the things I might have said while high, I still do."

It took little effort to return his tired smile. Keeping one hand pressed close against his chest, her other traced up his torso, across his jaw, following the path from cheek to ear, and brushing her fingers through his hair. She wanted to be closer to him. Closer, closer, closer, enough to keep the nightmares at bay, to keep him safe. The sudden knock on the door made them both jump, startling them back into the world. Hotch and Rossi were stepping into the room as Bianca frantically scrambled off of the hospital bed, smoothing down her clothes which were still wrinkled from the night before. Hotch cleared his throat, as the Reid looked up at them sheepishly.

"I trust you slept well," Rossi said with a smirk.

"If you need to talk, I can go," said Bianca, hurriedly grabbing her things and making a start for the door. Her face was bright red, and embarrassed by unforeseen intrusion she was looking for a quick escape from the situation.

"That won't be necessary," Hotch insisted. "You're more than welcome to stay here while we speak with Reid." Still blushing, she sat back down in the chair by Reid's bed.

She could tell he was uneasy. When he'd gotten clean before, he'd done so on his own, with some help from Gideon. As far as she was aware, the Bureau didn't know of Reid's addiction. She also knew that the BAU meant more than anything to him. They were his family, his home; more so than anyone else was. He would never intentionally risk his job, not if it was anything he was able to control. Bianca's heart beat rapidly, as both she and Spencer waited for someone to speak.

It was Hotch who finally did. "Reid, this isn't the first time we've dealt with this issue. You and I both know the Bureau's policies, and the consequences for something of this nature." Reid nodded, shame evident on his face. "You've abused a substance - a narcotic drug, at that. Under normal circumstances, you would be fired, and could possibly face criminal charges. Not to mention the effect this would have on cases you worked while using. However-"

Reid's head had lifted at the words "normal circumstances" and he was now watching Hotch attentively, trying to read whatever expression might be visible in the stone-straight face of his fellow agent.

"I think we can agree that these aren't normal circumstances," Hotch continued. "Your addiction wasn't by choice. You kidnapped and tortured by a delusional killer, and you told Gideon willingly. You maintained your sobriety for a long period of time, and through several incredibly difficult situations. I believe that this recent relapse was a result of a number of stressors piling up, and triggered by what happened in Charleston last month. Otherwise, you wouldn't have been using, and you certainly would have thought to ask for help. Am I correct in that assumption?" Spencer nodded once more. "Good. Then I'll expect this to be the last time. You'll be clean when you return to the office in two weeks."

"When I… when I return?" Spencer asked. He sounded as though he was afraid to hope, afraid to believe that things could possibly turn out well.

"Yes, in two weeks." Hotch told him. "That should be plenty of time for you to get clean, and get help."

"But I thought you said that the policies-"

"I said those were the policies under normal circumstances. And as I just reminded you, your circumstances have been anything but normal. Given the unique situation, we've decided that's merit enough to let you stay."

"In short, the Bureau owes him a big favor, and he's cashing in," Rossi added. "It also helps that he's the one filing all the paperwork for now."

Spencer was just staring, wordless, mouth open, his eyes flickering between Hotch and Rossi, processing what he was hearing. Tears were already welling up in eyes as he asked, his voice cracking, "You mean… I get to stay with the BAU?"

Hotch gave a short nod of affirmation. "Reid, listen to me. You're a smart kid. You know that. Your intelligence is always going to be an asset to this unit, and to this organization. But beyond your head is your heart. And your heart is what allows to you to understand and empathize with the people we deal with. It's easy to forget that you need help with sorting out those emotions sometimes. We assume you're smart enough to handle them yourself, but I mean it when I say you belong on this team, and you belong in this family. We need you. So the next time you think that you're in danger of using again, you come to us. We're here for you. Do you understand?"

The unit chief spoke earnestly, and the effect was not lost on Reid, who swallowed hard, and nodded, a hesitant smile twitching at the corners of his lips. "Thank you," he said hoarsely.

Beside him, Bianca stood from her chair and rushed towards the agents, her arms wrapping around Hotch, and then Rossi, in a hug. "Thank you both," she repeated. They regarded her, Hotch caught off guard, and Rossi with a smile.

"You're welcome," the older agent said. "Well, I think we'll leave you two alone, then. We can discuss the details later." Rossi winked and flashed Spencer another grin, and they parted ways, promising they would return later with the rest of the team.

Spencer sniffed, drying his eyes with the heels of his hands. Bianca touched his arm lightly. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "Yeah, I guess I just need some time to process it all. I didn't think I would get to stay. I had kind of convinced myself to accept what I was so sure was coming. And when it didn't… I guess 'relief' doesn't even begin to describe it. Without them, without the BAU, I don't know what I would do."

"I know."

"I can't believe I risked all of that…"

"Spencer, the things you're dealing with - the things you've dealt with - aren't easy. With everything that's happened to you in the last year…" An unspoken litany of events resided in that pause. Maeve, Strauss, the Replicator. "And if you hadn't been tortured by that man, I don't think you would've ever turned to drugs. You didn't choose that. And once you're addicted, well, it's something you have to battle with every day."

She looked up at him, two pairs of brown eyes focused on each other. "But you don't have to fight that battle alone, either. Hotch is right - your team sees what you see, and they want to be there for you. They care about you. And I care about you. I care about you so much, Spencer. I'm sorry if I wasn't there for you. I was just so afraid of… of…" Her voice shook, and she took a shaky breath of air, water creeping into her eyes as she replayed the image of him unconscious on the couch.

His hand cupped her cheek. "Bianca, this isn't your fault. I didn't want you to know. But every day, you help me. You listen to me, and you accept me and you make those heavy things a little bit lighter. I don't ever want to lose my team. But I don't want to lose you either." That had happened once before already, he wasn't about to go through it again.

"Like I said, I'm not going anywhere. I love you. And I promise, I'm going to be there for you. I'm going to speak up when I'm afraid. I want to work through our fears together. I don't want you to ever feel like you're alone."

Spencer moved his long fingers to lace them through hers. "And I promise to let you be there. To talk to the team, and to talk to you. And to learn to ask for help. I don't want to make you feel lonely," he responded, his words an echo of her own. They were holding hands, Bianca standing beside the bed, both wearing the sort of smiles that can only be worn by those who have come so close to losing so much, only to find that they haven't; that somehow they have survived the wreckage of the night and are standing in the wake of the morning.

Bianca looked at him, the hint of a laugh escaping her lips. He raised his eyebrows in question. "Nothing," she answered. "I was just thinking that this is probably one of the few times I'll be on eye level with you." Whether the thought came from exhaustion or a desire to lighten the mood, she wasn't certain. His low chuckle told her that all was well, and in that sound a thank you was buried - thank you for staying, thank you for believing in me, and thank you for continuing to find ways to make me smile.

He patted the space on the bed beside him which she had vacated minutes earlier. "Come closer then," Spencer told her. Bianca climbed back up beside him, careful to avoid the IV tubing, the bag swinging from a pole on the other side of the bed. She ran her hand through long, wavy hair. He reached up to brush her bangs from her forehead, and she could feel his fingers move over her ear before venturing across the top of her neck at the edges of her pixie cut. She leaned towards him slowly, and he lifted his head to meet her in a kiss that began with just a grazing of lips before deepening, long and soft and slow.

It had been far too long since she had kissed him.

When they finally pulled apart, Bianca rested her head back on Spencer's chest. Her fingers drifted up towards his collarbone, kneading circles near the edge of his hospital gown. For a moment, she took it all in - the steady rise and fall of his chest, breathing as he should be; the warmth of his arms around her; the way his hands rested on her hip and on the top of her head; the two of them lying there together. So much of the anxiety that had been building up inside of her over the past weeks was evaporating, with only the beeping of the monitors to remind her that they were in a hospital room.

"How long do we stay like this?" she whispered, almost dreamily.

Spencer's response tickled her forehead with each word, his breath warm. "Hospitals typically have nurses check vitals every four hours on average. I was half-awake when they checked earlier this morning around 7:02, and it's… 9:46 right now, which gives us roughly an hour and sixteen minutes, provided no doctors stop by before then." An hour and sixteen minutes without words or worries, spent simply in each other's company. Seventy-six minutes of calm, of reassurance that things would turn out okay for the both of them.

Between rounds of nurses and doctors they talked about his relapse, about Maeve and the deal in the loft, about Charleston and Johnson Douglass. There were things to be explained and things that needed to be both said and heard. Around noon, there was a knock on the door. Bianca let in the parade of agents, delighted at the way a grin changed Spencer's face entirely the moment he saw them.

"Hey there, pretty boy," Morgan greeted him. "Good to see you awake again."

"How are you feeling, Reid?" Blake asked.

"Better," he replied. "Much better, thank you." It was a flurry of questions, answers, and well-wishes as the entire BAU team flooded into the small room. JJ had brought flowers and a small stuffed bear wearing glasses- "Henry picked it out," she told him - and Garcia was holding an array of brightly colored balloons.

"I had to bring something to make my favorite genius feel better!" the analyst said, tying them around the bed rail. "Are they being nice to you? Did they give you Jell-O?"

Reid shook his head. "I actually haven't eaten anything yet. But if they bring something, make sure Morgan doesn't get to it first this time." He turned towards his colleague with a weak smile, and Derek laughed.

"Guilty as charged."

Bianca sat cross-legged in the chair, listening to them exchange stories and jokes. There were plenty of sincere offers of support and love, and it seemed to give Reid more energy the longer they stayed. Alex in particular fretted over him the same way a mother might, and she figured that Spencer and Agent Blake were closer than she thought, the two being so similar in their personalities and interests. Bianca joined the conversation where she could, and answered questions when asked, but she was more than happy to just let the team be a family for a few hours with no cases to worry about. That didn't happen often enough.

"Hey," Morgan said at one point. "Kid, I hope you know how much that woman of yours cares about you." He jerked his head towards Bianca, who blushed. "She came all the way to Quantico to get me, she was so worried about you. Now she's gonna act all humble, but that took a lotta courage and a lotta love. So don't you ever scare her – or us – like that again, you hear me?" He aimed an uncharacteristically stern look at Reid, who nodded apologetically.

"Good. Otherwise I'm gonna do a lot worse than giving your name and number out to the press on our next case." Bianca made a mental note to ask for that story later.

Eventually a doctor came to shoo them out, a chorus of "feel betters" and "see you soon." Bianca remained behind with Spencer, while his paperwork was processed.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, when she noticed he was staring at her.

"I'm still waiting for you to yell at me," said Spencer. With the sheer astonishment of the overdose wearing off, the gratitude at having survived, he was beginning to feel unsettled. It all seemed too good to be true, that he could live, that he could keep his job, that he could still have her by his side.

It was the logical thing for her to do, now that it was clear he wasn't dying. "Alright, fine. I'm terribly angry with you. You're a horrible person, and I hate you, and I never want to see you again." Though the words lacked any conviction, he still frowned, clearly surprised. "Is that what you want me to say? I'm upset, yes. But I'm upset because I nearly lost you, and because you weren't honest with me. Few addicts go without a single relapse, you know."

His fingers tugged at the flimsy hospital bracelet around his wrist. "I just feel like I keep burdening you with everything, and you're rarely angry with me. Why?"

It would have been surprisingly easy for her vexation to turn into screaming last night, and she was surprised he hadn't noticed how hard she had to fight to keep all of her emotions in check. It was all she offered for a second, letting a small piece of the past sink in. "You're not the only one to have struggled with something. The summer after my first year in grad school, I had a really bad relapse with my eating disorder. I ended up passing out at my job. It took me a few months to get back to eating normally again. Everything was so stressful, living in a new place, being on my own, and trying to figure out what I was doing with my life. All these people kept telling me that I just needed to eat, that I just needed to believe that I wasn't fat or ugly and everything would be fixed. But it was never about the food. It was about being in control. Just like this isn't about the drugs. It's about what happened to you."

She hated to dwell on that story, having to stare down pieces of her life she would rather leave behind, but she wanted him to know she understood the feeling of spiraling down in an attempt to escape what scared you. "Besides, I grew up in a house full of people who were always angry. It never seemed to fix anything." For a brief moment, the softness left her face as she added, "But make no mistake – if this happens again, if you hide something like this from me, I'll be furious. So don't you ever throw everything away like that. If you risk your life, and hurt the people in it again, I won't be able to forgive you so easily."

The message, he said, was absolutely understood. The discharge papers were filed, and Spencer was given a list of clinics and specialists that provided addiction programs. He changed into the fresh clothes Morgan had brought over from his apartment, and he and Bianca left the hospital hand in hand.

"To err is human; to forgive, is divine." – Alexander Pope

Author's Note:

It's strange to think that I've published 21 chapters of this story so far. Thank you for taking the time to read it! I'm especially grateful to ajwehri, dianakotori, perfectlyhorriddarling, curlystruggle, Dream-4-3v3r, Blondie24-7, blushingpixie, and Shy-DayDreamer143 for following and/or favoriting this fic!

To my dear reviewers: ahowell1993 (I had to laugh when you suggested Hotch give him two weeks off, because that's what I'd already written! Crazy, isn't it?), ripon, LadySnowTheStark (it's only a bit of happiness for now, but just you wait until I get these next few chapters posted. I think you'll be pleased), smilin steph, Dark-Enough-Conspiracy-Theory (somewhat of a reconciliation, but a bit more here, and much more in the coming chapters. The focus is primarily on strengthening their relationship once more), SabinaD (you make me wanna cry with how sweet your reviews are! Thank you! And haha, I was worried he would come off as abrasive lately, so it's good to hear that!), dianakotori (hopefully I can satisfy those withdrawals with a few chapters about withdrawals!), and hfcmfan2013 (thank you! I think you'll really enjoy the coming chapters in that case), thank you so very much for sending me messages and leaving me feedback! Each of you seriously makes my day, and I love hearing from you. You're the best! And yes, I certainly owe you for the considerable about of angst in the last nine or so chapters.

And so it's out of the hospital, and onto the recovery. And of course, it's not recommended to go through detox alone...