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Chapter Twenty Five

Spencer hasn't said a single word throughout the entire flight, and since we landed. I almost jump out of my seat when he finally speaks as we're pulling onto the interstate back to D.C. from Quantico.

"So, what did Hotch want?"

"What do you mean?"

"He pulled you aside on the plane. When I was resting."

"You weren't asleep?"

"No. Catnapping is more like it. I figure Hotch saw right through me. Was it supposed to be some secret?" Oh shit. Mood swing time.

"No. No secret. He was just asking me about my arm."

"So what, he thinks I'm hitting you?"

"No, Spencer. He is just worried about you. Told me to call his personal number if I needed him and keep everything hush hush. He's just trying to help you keep your job." He doesn't say a word, just fixes his eyes on the road ahead of us.

"Do you want anything specific for dinner?"

"No. I do want some Tylenol or something. Maybe cold medicine. Does cold medicine work on withdrawal symptoms? I mean I feel like I have the flu times a thousand."

"I'll stop by the pharmacy and see what I can find."

"Ugh, do I have to get out?"

"No. You can stay right here."

...

I ended up just stopping at Walmart. Mainly so I could get him some jello and crackers since I doubt he will eat anything else. When we finally get home, he stalks into the bedroom and slams the door behind himself, making me jump. I just sigh and follow behind him, going straight through the bedroom and into the bathroom. I quickly empty the clothes from both of our bags into the hamper and take the sack out of it, stalking back out. When I come back through the door, Spencer is sitting at the table eating jello.

"You got the green jello!"

"Hey now, I know how to take care of my man." I kiss the top of his head and he pulls me into his lap, trying to hide the fact that he winces when he pulls me against him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah...yeah I'm good. Would you want to lay down with me? For a while?"

"Of course." I get up off of his lap and take his hand, leading him into the bedroom.

...

Spencer shuffles into the kitchen just as I'm putting some soup into a bowl for him.

"Chicken noodle?" He raises an eyebrow at me and gives me a boyish grin.

"With crackers and the noodles are broken up."

"Oh good. You know I'm useless with noodles."

"I had a feeling," I smirk. He settles on the barstool across from me and eats slowly, not saying anything. Again, this makes me nervous but at least he seems to be in a pretty neutral mood. Well, here goes nothing.

"So I got a call earlier from work...I told them I would have to call them back. I'm supposed to let them know something in an hour."

"If you need to go to work then you need to go. I think I can handle myself for a few hours."

"I just...well. What if you need me?"

"I can call you."

"Do you think maybe we should see if someone wants to come and hang out with you while I'm gone?"

"I don't need a babysitter," he snaps.

"Okay. Okay. I'll let my boss know."

"I'm not a child, by the way."

"I never said you were..."

"You literally just tried to get me to let you find a babysitter for me. Do you really not trust me? What do you think I'll do?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe have a fucking seizure! Which is likely considering how bad you are withdrawing."

"Oh..."

"What did you think I thought?"

"Nothing...it's stupid. Look, you can't put your life on hold. You have obligations and I have to make sure you keep them. I won't hold you back. What if we checked in every hour or so?"

"Okay...that works. I'm going to take a shower." As I'm walking away I hear him mutter.

"Sure you can trust me long enough?..." I just shake my head and ignore him. Once I'm in the shower, I completely break down. I can't control or silence my sobs. I know that Spencer hears me because I barely register the soft clicking of his boot. He's coming into the bedroom. After a few minutes, the bathroom door creeks open and I can feel him ease in behind me. He gently turns me and guides my head to rest on his chest. I don't know how long we stand here. Eventually I've cried so hard for so long that I am lunging for the toilet, sitting on the bathroom floor naked and vomiting. Spencer drapes a towel around me and sits on the side of the tub, holding my hair back. I know he's trying. But I can't help but feel like he's also going through the motions. Eventually he coaxes me into the bedroom and slips a T-shirt over my head before we cuddle up together. He hasn't said a single word. He's just held me this entire time and for that I'm grateful. I know that he isn't himself, but this simple act shows me that he is genuinely trying to get better. So I close my eyes and relax into him, knowing that I will most likely wake to a different reality.