Follows along with episode 3x09 - Penelope

Penelope's blood seeped through my fingers, running heavily down the backs of my hands and pooling onto the cement steps beneath her. Deep crimson stained my skirt and darkened my skin; it glinted off the gold jacket I'd slipped onto her just hours ago. There were voices behind me, sirens in the distance, but all that mattered was my best friend bleeding out beneath me.

"Penny, hey, keep your eyes open," I begged as her lids began to flutter again. When she didn't respond I hastily wiped my blood-slicked hand on my shirt and then cupped her cheek. "Penelope, with me. With me, please!"

Slowly her eyes opened a bit more and her glassy gaze locked onto me. Her lips moved but no words came out; my hardly-beating heart wrenched painfully in my chest. A woman at my side – one of Penelope's neighbors – was telling me something about an ambulance, paramedics, but I couldn't focus on that. They weren't here. They weren't helping right now.

My best friend whimpered under my hold and I quickly put my other hand back over the wound. She blinked slowly up at me, a tear sliding down her cheek; I fought to hold in my own. If I started crying I'd lose it. I couldn't. I had to be strong for Penelope.

"It's okay, Penny. It's alright. It's gonna be okay," I promised, forcing back a sob and willing my voice to hold steady as her eyes fluttered again. "I promise you you're gonna be just fine."

There was a rush of footsteps behind me and then a firm hand wrapped over my upper arm, pulling me back. Instinct took over and I rolled my shoulder roughly, breaking the hold and hunkering down over Penelope.

"Ma'am, it's alright, we're here to help," a woman promised, angling me back with more force this time. I slumped onto the step beside Penelope and watched in a near-daze as the paramedics swarmed my best friend.

"GSW, chest through abdomen," the woman who'd pushed me back reported. More paramedics swarmed and chaos erupted around us.

"BP ninety over fifty and dropping –"

"Get a backboard and a C-collar –"

"Call it in, get the OR prepped –"

"Ma'am, can you hear me?" one of the other paramedics asked, shining a light into Penny's eyes. I pushed onto my knee, desperate to be close to her again, saying quickly,

"Penelope. Her – her name's Penelope," I told him urgently, and he nodded as he tried again,

"Penelope. Can you hear me?" Penny's eyes fluttered shut and he shook his head. "She's in and out of consciousness. BP's 60 and dropping."

The paramedic stood and circled the scene, gently taking hold of my arm and carefully pulling me to me feet and maneuvering me back. "You're her friend?"

"Yes, I'm her – she's mine," I stammered out. Don't cry. Don't break. Keep it together. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. All I could focus on was the raspy, weakening breaths she struggled to take in and the the chill of her blood drying on my skin.

"Can you tell us what happened?"

"She – she was coming back from a date. And I heard laughing, and then he – he said something, and there was a gunshot –"

"Ma'am I need you to breathe for me, okay?" he coaxed, hand rubbing up and down my arm. "There you go. Nice and slow."

I took a handful of shallow breaths, forcing my mind to go back over what had happened. Chris had said… he'd said something. And then there was laughter – no. Had the laughter come first? Wait. Did he shoot her and then say something –

"On three – one, two, three!"

My head snapped up in time to see Penelope lifted into the air on the backboard and instantly I shoved past the paramedic trying to calm me down. I was at her side in the next instant, for the first time wholeheartedly grateful for my small size that let me slip between the paramedics without hindering them as they sat her onto the stretcher.

Penelope's eyes opened and my heart surged. One of the paramedics leaned down and asked, "miss, can you tell me your name?"

"I… Penelope Garcia," she whispered, and my aching heart surged against my chest. She was responsive! She couldn't move much, but her eyes slid to the side and when they locked onto me she whimpered; her fingers twitched and instantly I took her hand in mine.

As I tried to follow her to the ambulance, though, two of the paramedics stepped up to block my path. Unbridled, protective anger surged to the top of absolute terror and I snarled,

"I'm going with her!"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but we can't have you in the back –"

"I have to go –"

"She's unstable and we need all room for our EMT's," the other explained; he kept a firm hold on my shoulder to keep me from shoving past like I was trying to do. "We're taking her to Sentara Northern. You can follow behind, it's only about a ten-minute drive."

I didn't have a choice. My only other option was to try and fight back, but it could keep Penelope from getting to the hospital… I just gave a shaky nod and took a step back. The paramedic gave a reassuring squeeze and as he stepped back I said quickly,

"Please just – just hold her hand. Don't let her feel like she's alone. Please."

He paused as he went to climb onto the ambulance, looking back, and he gave a simple nod. I was spinning on my heel, sprinting back into Penelope's apartment before they even shut the ambulance door.

There was no time to wash the blood off. As soon as I burst inside I beelined for my purse and I was back out the door in the next heartbeat. It took me two tries to get my phone out; my hands were shaking so bad I could barely hold onto it as I my #2 speed dial on the way to the parking lot.

The phone rang twice on the other end. "This is –"

"Hotch," I cut in, my voice breaking at the sound of his. "It's – it's so bad, Hotch."

The ambulance took off and I heard a noise of alarm on the other end. "Are those sirens? Aria, what's –"

"Penelope was shot. "

Since the moment I'd set foot in the hospital, I hadn't stopped pacing. My arms were wrapped tight around myself, holding in the sickening, heart wrenching terror that was pulsing through my body. The only update I'd been given was that she was being taken into surgery. That was it. That was all I got to hear, and it wasn't enough to quell the panic.

As I turned to pace back through the small waiting area, the figure I'd been desperately waiting for stepped into view. Hotch was in the same suit-and-tie from earlier; had he even gone home between then and my phone call? For once, his face wasn't stoic. There was honest, burning concern softening his features, and his dark eyes instantly swept over me.

Wordlessly, he crossed to me and he pulled me to him without hesitation, ducking just a hint to let me wrap my arms around his neck and cling to him with the little strength I was holding onto. The sob I'd been forcing back ripped out of my throat and I broke down in his arms now that it was safe to do so. It was gonna be okay, because Hotch was here. I wasn't alone in this. Hotch was here with me and he'd fix this. He'd – I didn't know what he'd do, but he'd do something.

At some point in my crying he'd moved us to one of the couches. He sank down next to me and I shifted to slip my arms tight around his waist and bury my face against his chest. He kept one arm firm around my shoulders, holding me to him, and the other ran in soothing waves up and down my trembling back.

If he minded getting blood over his suit, he never said a word. It struck me that he was probably used to it by now and oddly enough, that thought was comforting. It meant this wasn't new to him. He'd faced terrible things before, things that got your clothes bloody and broke the people around you, and he had come out on top. It just assured me things were going to be okay with Hotch here.

Only once I'd marginally calmed down did he lean back to take me in. Gentler than I'd ever seen him, the hand rubbing my back came up to brush my hair back from my tear-stained face. He took in my blood-soaked clothes and his brow somehow managed to furrow into deeper concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked me in concern. I gave what had to be the world's most unconvincing nod, and his look didn't waver. "The amount of blood on you is telling me otherwise."

"I'm – physically, I'm okay," I rasped, going to wipe at my eyes. Hotch caught my wrist and I caught sight of my hand, practically coated in Penelope's blood. Instead, he leaned back and grabbed a tissue, and – to my surprise – he reached up and dried my cheeks for me before pressing it into my hand. Sometimes I forgot Hotch was actually a dad.

Heels clicking on the tile caught our attention and both of us looked up as JJ rounded the corner. Her own teary eyes met mine and her lower lip trembled. Hotch slowly pulled back from me and before I could miss his hold, JJ took his place.

"I've got blood all over –"

"I don't care," she dismissed instantly. Her small arms somehow held me even tighter than Hotch had and I folded up against her.

"I'll see if I can get an update," he said quietly, his hand briefly resting on JJ's shoulder before he headed towards the nurses station down the hall.

As he disappeared from sight, JJ gave me a squeeze and said softly, "hey, let's go get you cleaned up, alright?"

Instantly I tensed and looked to where Hotch had just gone. "But what if Penelope –"

"Trust me, kiddo, you're gonna feel a lot better with a few layers of blood taken off," she assured, getting to her feet and holding out her hands. When I didn't immediately move to take them, she wiggled her fingers in invitation. "Come on. We'll be quick."

With a small nod, I slid my hands into hers and let her pull me to my feet. Her arm wrapped tight around my shoulders and she led me down the hall, easing the bathroom door open with her hip and ushering me inside.

It was surreal, scrubbing off my arms and hands, watching the crimson drops fall against the ceramic like they'd fallen onto the concrete steps. Flashes of Penelope's glazed eyes and her bloodstained jacket flickered into my mind and I squeezed my eyes shut, willing them away.

Thankfully JJ was there with me, helping to ground me when I started to get too lost in my thoughts. She rested a hand against my lower back as her other swiped at my face and neck with a damp paper towel.

As soon as the water ran clear again, JJ shifted to stand behind me. Even in my heels she was still several inches over me, and she easily swept my curls back from my face. She twisted them up into a quick bun and used her own hair tie to secure them back. Her hands smoothed down onto my shoulders and she squeezed them as she met my eyes in the mirror.

"Better?" she asked softly; I sniffed and gave a small nod. With my affirmation, JJ used her hold on me to steer me out of the bathroom and back down to the small waiting area. Hotch was standing stone-still against the wall and he looked down as we approached.

"She's in surgery, but no word past that," he reported, and I gave another small nod. JJ kept pushing me until we reached the couch again, and she eased me down again, then perched on the edge of the seat next to me.

"Do you have your go-bag?" when I shook my head, she nodded and pulled out her phone. "I'll have Emily bring you a change of clothes, alright?"

I wanted to thank JJ as she got up but the words just wouldn't come; I couldn't speak. The ache in my chest was so powerful it overwhelmed me; the exhaustion was even worse. I'd been up for… thirty? Had it been thirty hours? That felt about right.

I leaned forward wearily, elbows resting on my knees as I dropped my face into my hands. I'd lost count at how many times I'd done that over the last two days. A wave of fatigue pulsed through me and I actually felt myself sway. But the moment my eyes shut, Penelope's bloodied body on the steps flashed into view and I forced them open.

Someone sank onto the seat beside me and the comforting smell of fresh laundry and old leather wreathed around me. Reid sat so close his leg rested against mine and I instantly reveled in the feeling, grateful to have his subtle touch to ground me again.

The two of us sat in silence for a moment. Reid kept his gaze straight ahead but he didn't pull back from me. His hands fiddled with the edge of his sweater, the clasp of his watch, and finally he cleared his throat.

"In the Lascaux caves in central France, there's a prehistoric map of the sky that dates back about 16,500 years. It's the oldest to actually show star clusters we still identify today. One is the Summer Triangle, and the other is the Pleiades cluster. Scientists also recently found a drawing of the Northern Crown constellation. That one's about 14,000 years old, in the Cueva di El Castillo cave in Spain. They're among the oldest document maps of the stars and it helps lend credibility to the theory that our ancestors were much more advanced than we originally thought."

His cadence was soft and sweet, the words gently brushing over my raw, aching nerves like waves on the sand. Each sentence soothed the pain just a hint, eased up the tightness in my chest, pushed down the anguish enough that as he finally went quiet I managed to take my first deep breath.

"You'll need to show me the maps someday. I'd love to see those," I whispered to him in the silence that settled between us. I shifted to look up at him and he turned to look down. Those gentle, warm eyes crinkled at the edges with the smile he gave. I did my best to return it as I whispered, "thank you."

"You're welcome," he said just as softly, bobbing his head as he brought a hand up to tuck his hair back behind his ear. "We'll look at them. I think you'd appreciate them."

Before I could tell him that yes, yes I definitely would, two more of our team joined us in the waiting area. Both Rossi and Emily paused when they caught sight of me; I had to look like an absolute mess. A quick glance down at my clothes confirmed that I did indeed look like I'd just slaughtered a small village. Yeesh.

"I've got clothes for you," Emily offered, holding out a plastic bag to me. Reid gave me a parting smile as I murmured another thanks and pushed to my feet. Just like JJ had, Emily instantly engulfed me and hugged me tight to her – apparently no one on this team minded blood on their clothes – and then took me down the hall.

"I figured a dress was the best choice," she prefaced as we stepped into the bathroom and I tugged out her clothes. As I held up what she'd brought me, I caught sight of the Jonathan Simkhai tag and my eyes widened.

Instantly I went to hand it back to her, shaking my head. "Em, this is a name-brand dress! I can't wear this!"

"What? Why not? I know you've got more curves than me but it should fit you –"

"This dress has to be at least $400," I told her, pressing it to her when she didn't grab it from me. "There's no way I'm putting this on."

She chuckled and gently pushed the dress towards me, careful not to push it against my bloodstained shirt. "Take it, please. I've never worn it and I'm never going to. You'll get more use out of it than me."

Frowning, I looked down at the expensive dress and then back up to her. It definitely didn't look like something she'd ever wear; Emily wasn't a baby blue lace kind of girl. "Why do you have a $400 name-brand dress if you're never planning to wear it?"

"My mother bought it for me to wear to some events she expected me to attend," Emily grimaced, eyeing the dress with disdain. "Trust me. You taking it will be a favor for me."

"Em…" When I hesitated still, she laughed softly and nudged me towards the stall.

"I'm not taking no for an answer."

With a final sigh accepting my defeat – and not wanting to miss any updates on Penelope – I reluctantly went into the stall. Peeling off my bloodstained clothes was much more of a feat than I expected, and I grimaced seeing the smears over my stomach and legs. "Uh, Em? Could you –"

A handful of wet paper towels was instantly held under the stall doors. Smiling to myself and murmuring my thanks, I took them and cleaned myself up as best I could. The dress fit surprisingly well, considering I was definitely 'curvier' than Emily was. It was a little snug in the hips, but anything beat my bloody clothes.

Emily beamed at me as I stepped out, taking the bundle of my old clothes and stuffing them in the plastic bag for me as I washed my hands. "You look stunning in that. I've got dozens more of those for you."

"Nope, absolutely not," I said instantly, turning to frown at her as I led us out of the bathroom. "One $400 dress is more than enough for a lifetime."

"Oh don't be ridiculous," she scoffed, and then smirked as she told me, "that dress is $600."

"Emily –" I squeaked, gaping at her and moving to take my bag of clothes back. "I'm not wearing this –"

"Too late," she informed me, looping an arm around my waist and practically hauling me back to the others. The rest of the team were standing together, all with different levels of worried frowns on their faces. Rossi turned as we approached and he held his arms open to me, tucking me to his side as I accepted the hug.

"Any news?" I asked, continuing to lean against him. Hotch shook his head and told Emily and I,

"The responding officers think it's a botched robbery."

A robbery? Had it – had it been Chris? Or had someone attacked her after he left? I should've been nosy; I should've peeked outside, checked on her…

"The nurses said they can't give us any updates yet," JJ added as she came up on Hotch's side, sighing in frustration

"Morgan's phone just keeps going straight to voicemail," Reid told us, coming back to stand with us as well as he tucked his cell away.

Morgan. I'd completely forgotten about Morgan.

Emily made a noise of surprise as sick guilt began to creep into my chest. "What?! Where the hell is he?"

Are you really willin' to take that risk? To let Penelope take that risk?

His words from just a few hours ago hit me like a punch to the stomach. I actually lost my breath, legs going weak. Rossi felt me tense in his hold and instantly he ducked to meet my eyes.

"Kiddo?" I had to look as bad as I felt because instantly he moved to pull me towards the couch. "Alright. Let's sit you down."

It wasn't certain. There was no way to know who had shot Penelope. It might not've been Chris; for all we knew, the date had gone great. There was no telling who had hurt her –

Then why do you feel so guilty? I asked myself as I sunk down into the seat. Just as he had done in Florida, Hotch came over and knelt in front of me, hand to my knee to get my attention.

"When's the last time you ate?"

Images of chili popped into my mind and instantly my stomach flip-flopped. "Um, I had some tea on the plane. But with the case, with Ferell –"

Hotch thankfully nodded, stopping me from reviving the nausea I'd spent hours fighting back. He stood and skirted past the others down the hall without another word. The cushion next to me sank down and once again Reid was at my side. He leaned back into the couch and I copied his movements so I could turn and meet his gaze.

"You haven't slept in a while, have you?" he questioned, and I shook my head. "You should try and get some rest. The – um, Garcia will probably be in surgery for a while longer."

"I don't know if I can sleep," I admitted. He nodded in understanding, but before he could say more, Hotch was kneeling in front of me again. He had a bag of Cheez-Its and a bag of pretzels, both of which he sat beside me.

"These should hold you over until we can get you some real food."

"Thanks, Hotch," I said softly, grabbing the bag of pretzels and giving him a smile. He gave my knee another squeeze before getting up. JJ and Emily settled in the seats across from us as Hotch and Rossi gathered further out, stationed to receive news the moment anyone could bring us any.

I popped open the bag and took a pretzel, then held it out to Reid. He chuckled but shook his head. "I'm alright. You need them more than I do."

Knowing better than to try and argue with him – and honestly not even having the strength or willpower – I settled against the couch as I slowly went through both bags of snacks. I had no idea when I'd actually slipped into a restless sleep. One moment I was counting the number of times Hotch paced past me, and the next a gentle hand settled on my arm.

My eyes peeled open and blinked slowly, looking around. My cheek was pillowed against something soft and I tipped my head back, coming nearly face-to-face with Reid. I'd slumped over in my sleep, right onto Reid's shoulder.

"'M sorry," I mumbled quickly, righting myself and trying to will the blush on my cheeks to die down. He didn't look bothered as he pulled his hand back. Before I could ask why he'd woken me – hoping for news on Penelope – I saw the last member of our team had joined us.

Morgan was standing with Hotch and Rossi, with JJ and Emily getting up to meet him as well.

"She's been in surgery for a couple hours," JJ was telling him; my eyes widened. Hours? How long had I been sleeping? How long had I been sleeping on Reid?!

"I had my phone off," Morgan said quickly. He hadn't seen me yet, and part of me wanted it to stay that way. Except, of course, it was Reid that told him,

"There's nothing you could've been doing here."

His gaze flicked our direction for a moment, went back to JJ, and then instantly snapped back when he realized I was beside Reid; I froze on the couch. Reid felt the movement and glanced down at me, turning and following my wide-eyed gaze to Morgan.

"What about the police? They got any leads?" he asked the others; his eyes didn't leave mine and I sunk even lower.

Hotch, again, shook his head. "I spoke to the lead detective. He doesn't think we'll get anything from the scene."

Morgan's eyes darkened a hint; he knew I hadn't mentioned anything about her date to the team. Before he could call me out – like he was just about to do – a voice from behind him asked,

"Penelope Garcia?" Various voices of yes came from the others as a doctor approached our group. "The bullet went in her chest and ricocheted into her abdomen. She lost a lot of blood."

My heart skittered to a stop and I doubled over face falling into my hands; I couldn't breathe. A comforting hand flitted to my arm; Reid's fingers curled gently over my wrist and he gave a steady, reassuring squeeze.

"What are you saying?" JJ pressed, unable to take the tension. I held my breath, trembling, bracing for the worst.

"It was touch-and-go for a while, but we were able to repair the injuries." I let out a silent sob of relief and practically melted in on myself. "One centimeter over and it would've torn right through her heart. If she'd lost any more blood, she would've been too far gone. Instead… well, she could walk out of here in a couple of days. I'd say that's a minor miracle. She needs to rest, but you can see her in the morning."

The others around us gave a collective sigh of relief and Reid's hand tightened on me. Hot tears ran down my cheeks, the relief so powerful I could barely breathe still. My best friend was okay. Penelope was okay. She's okay. She's okay.

Reid stood up, his fingers slipping off my wrist, and instantly I missed his touch. I lifted my head and quickly wiped my cheeks off, following his lead and meekly shuffling up to the others; I didn't dare risk looking at Morgan.

"Alright. David and I will go to the scene," Hotch decided, looking around at all of us. "I think the rest of you should be here when she wakes up. I don't care about protocol, I don't care whether we're working this officially or not. We don't touch any new cases until we find out who did this."

As our group all nodded in understanding, Hotch reached out and settled his hand on my shoulder, gently tugging me a little ways down the hall, away from the others. When I looked up at him, I saw the fatherly concern on his face and realized exactly what he was about to say.

"Aria –"

"I'm not leaving."

Hotch's lips twitched towards a smile, hand on my shoulder giving a squeeze. "I'm a profiler. I've already realized that would be a fruitless effort. I don't expect you to leave, but I do want you to at least attempt to get a little more rest. Between this and the last case, you're worn through emotionally."

"I'll try," I told him honestly with a small smile. He gave an understanding nod, and then pulled me to him. Instantly my arms slid tight around his waist and I buried my face against his suit as he hugged me tight.

Only as he pulled away did I realize I should've mentioned Penelope's date. He and Rossi were already stepping onto the elevator and the doors slid shut before I could call out to them. The guilt in my chest instantly doubled when I turned back to the rest of the team.

Morgan was already staring me down. His jaw was tense, thick brows drawn together in a scowl. Reid, Emily, and JJ had taken note of his posture, and they followed his glare to stare at me in question. Morgan and I held stone still for several more moments until he finally growled out,

"I need'a talk to you."

My heart skipped a beat and I squeaked out, "Morgan –"

"Now."

He turned on his heel, stalking the opposite way down the hall, knowing I would follow. I didn't meet others' stares as I scurried past them, hurrying after Morgan. When we reached the end of the hall he turned the corner – making sure we were well away from the other three – and then he spun on his heel to face me.

"Is there any chance this was her date?" he demanded, voice thick with anger. Tears instantly welled in my eyes and my throat tightened with guilt. When I didn't answer instantly he barked, "Aria –"

"Yes," I whispered quickly, a tear slipping down my cheek; I hastily wiped it away. "There's – there's a chance. I don't – I didn't see anything, though. I heard them talking before, but then –"

"And you didn't think to say anything to Hotch?" he asked incredulously, voice rising, fury burning. I shrunk under his glare.

"H-Hotch said they think it was a robbery, so we don't know it's –"

"He could've been the robber, Aria!" he snarled, throwing his hands up. I flinched away from him on instinct, sinking against the wall. "This is exactly what I was afraid of. I told you. I know you were doubtin' her date too, an' you went an' sent her right into danger just to get a few moments of Garcia pattin' you on the back for bein' such a great friend!"

His words hurt, but it was nothing compared to the guilt ripping through me. More tears fell and I shrunk even lower. In a very quiet, very shaky voice I tried, "it might not've been him –"

"Don't you dare try to give yourself an out right now, Aria," he warned, taking a step towards me, finger jamming my direction. My words dried up and my quivering lips pressed tight together. I couldn't think of the last time he'd used my real name, and he'd just used it twice. Hell, had he ever used it before?

"Morgan, I didn't think that –"

"Yeah, trust me, I know you didn't. Clearly you didn't. If you'd have just listened to me, Penelope wouldn't be here. She wouldn't be hurt. She wouldn't have almost died. Do you understand that? Do you understand how damn close we came to losin' her tonight?"

Of course I do. She was bleeding out right under my hands, I wanted to say; I couldn't form the sentence. As the silence began to stretch between us he shook his head and admitted,

"I can't do this. I can't look at you right now."

The words hit like a slap to the face and I stared up at him, stunned. He was already turning away, breathing hard, hands running over his head as he tried to calm himself down. Slowly, I pushed off the wall and took a step forward, reaching my hand out towards him. He stilled instantly, body tensing when he heard me moving closer

My hand froze in mid-air, and I moved back the step I'd just taken. My hands curled to my chest tears falling hard as I choked out, "I'm so sorry, Derek."

He didn't answer me, didn't even turn to look at me, and I couldn't take it anymore. A sob tore from my throat as I turned and rushed down the hall, leaving Morgan and the others behind.

Spencer

The concern burning in inside Spencer doubled instantly when only Morgan came back to the waiting area. Emily and JJ, on either side of him, instantly turned and crossed their arms, but Spencer was the first to speak.

"Where's Aria?"

Morgan's dark gaze flitted to him for a heartbeat, and then skipped over his shoulder; avoiding eye contact. Spencer was what he considered to be a generally calm person – he hardly ever felt anything past minor aggravation with most things. With every second Morgan didn't answer him, though, the anger that usually lay dormant deep inside him began to rise.

"You want to tell us what that was about?" Emily pressed, tone sharp and leaving no room for argument. Morgan, still not looking at her, said quietly,

"There's a chance the guy who shot Garcia was this guy that asked her out. I didn't want her goin' out with this guy and Aria talked her into it. She just completely disregarded –"

"Hey, woah, back it up," Emily cut in, actually putting a hand up to him to pause his words. "Don't tell me you're blaming her."

Again, no answer. Something dangerously close to fury sparked in Spencer's chest. He wanted to say something – say anything – but he had no idea what that should be. Morgan was his best friend, at this point more of a brother than anything. He knew how much he cared for Garcia, and everyone reacted to trauma and distress differently. Regardless of where his heart and mind were at didn't excuse him from being unfairly harsh to Aria.

That, actually, would be a very good thing to say, Spencer realized, but JJ was already on top of things before he could try to vocalize his thoughts.

"Morgan," she started slowly, clearly the calmest of the three of them; that really wasn't saying much at the moment. "You have to know how completely unfair that is. If – and yes, it's an if – it even was the guy she went out with, that's not anyone's fault."

"I told the both'a them that he was bad news and neither listened –"

Emily scoffed and cut in, "what, did you know this guy personally?"

"I – no, 'course not," he threw out, scowling down at her; Emily raised a dangerous brow in challenge.

"Well, did Aria or Garcia know him?"

"No," he bit out slower, having clearly realized where this was going. Emily and JJ shared a look and JJ pointed out,

"Then there was no way to know he could've been bad news –"

"Well I knew!" Morgan argued, and Emily snapped,

"No, Derek, you made an assumption and you just so happened to be right."

Spencer knew his best friend well enough to know when he felt trapped. He wasn't arguing now because he truly felt he was right; he was arguing because he felt guilty. The words left Spencer's mouth before he realized what he was saying. "Are you honestly upset with Aria, or are you upset with yourself that you couldn't protect Garcia, just like she is?"

Morgan's dark eyes glanced his way, and the moment their gazes met Morgan was looking away again. Spencer had his answer. He nodded and pressed his lips together, starting to skirt past the other three. Morgan's hand shot out and, careful not to touch him, Morgan motioned for him to pause.

"Where're you goin', kid?"

"I'm going to find Aria. She shouldn't be alone right now," he began, and at the look that came over his friends face, he softened his tone add, "Garcia needs all of us together, on the same page."

Morgan's hand dropped and he just managed a simple nod, letting Spencer pass. JJ caught his eye and gave a small smile, assuring she and Emily would handle Morgan. He followed the hall that the two of them had gone down, sweeping the corridor for any sign of her.

The concern inside him ached a little more as he reached the end of the hall without spotting her. What if she'd managed to leave? Whatever Morgan had said to her, it had probably just torn her down even more than she'd already done to herself. With how exhausted she was, after all that had happened on the case just hours before, being alone was the last thing Aria needed.

As he started down the next hall, his hands fell to his pockets, searching for his phone. Frustration welled at the realization he must've left it at home in his haste to get to the hospital. As he was contemplating going back to have one of the others call her, he passed by another waiting area and caught a glimpse of baby blue out of the corner of his eye.

Aria was standing with her back to him, arms wrapped tight around herself, shoulders shaking as she cried silently to herself. Spencer's heart dropped to his stomach, seeing her looking so small and vulnerable. Normally, comforting people was something he tried to avoid at all costs. He had no idea what to say, what to do… he didn't understand half the emotions he ended up trying to face, and usually he just made it worse.

She was different.

No matter what he did, no matter the situation, he always seemed to put a smile on her face. Admittedly, there was a chance it was simply because she was just such a nice person; she'd just smile to acknowledge he was trying. To him, that made much more sense than the alternative.

Statistically speaking, based off the past twenty-six years of experience, it simply didn't make sense that she'd smile because he'd genuinely helped her feel better. Spencer Reid just wasn't the type of man to cheer up others and get in touch with unspoken emotions, let alone help to detangle the mess that came along with them.

Sure, Aria did it for him almost daily. It was just second nature for her to light up any room she entered, to brighten even the darkest corners of Spencer's mind. It came effortlessly to her to soothe the confusion and heartache and frustration that he ran through day-to-day without even blinking an eye.

That's why he always had to try to cheer her up. Even if he wasn't great at it, and even if her reaction was just to placate him… it was still a smile, at least. And with all she did for him without even knowing, he owed her all he could give. If Aria could put him back on his feet after a case metaphorically took him to his knees, the least he could do was try and talk to her.

As he approached her, he saw her body tense and she looked back quickly, relaxing just a hint when she saw who it was. He offered a small smile and though she tried to give one back, her trembling lips hardly turned up.

When he reached her side she asked him softly, "what're you doing here?"

She didn't sound upset he'd shown up, she seemed genuinely confused as to why he was there. His heart sunk a little more. Did she really not think that he or the others weren't concerned when she didn't come back?

"I was worried about you," he told her. She didn't look up at him, but he saw her brows punch together in a frown; more confusion. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine," she told him through the tears. If she wasn't so upset he would've teased her about being an absolutely awful liar. Though she wiped her cheeks off, more tears fell down them almost instantly. "I just… I don't think I should be around right now."

"Why would you think that?" he knew the answer, of course he did, but he needed her to tell him. If she kept pretending nothing was wrong, he wouldn't be able to do anything. At first, she kept quiet. Her arms tightened around herself and she gave a small shake of her head. Spencer spoke before he thought about what he was saying. "Please let me help you. I want to help."

Finally, she looked up at him. Her hazel-green eyes were a clear emerald, more green than brown now, with soft flecks of gold shimmering behind the tears. He let himself get lost in her gaze as she looked him over for any signs he wasn't being truthful. As if she expected him to truly not care what was bothering her.

He knew that look, it was one he held often. The look of someone expecting everyone else to automatically dismiss what they had to say, to ask a question and not truly want a reply. She was waiting for him to show any sign of disinterest; he held her gaze, solid and unwavering.

"This is all my fault," she finally admitted to him, voice catching on the words. "If it hadn't been for me, Penelope wouldn't have been shot."

"Aria, if it hadn't been for you, Garcia would've died. The doctor said if she'd lost any more blood, she would've been too far gone. If you hadn't been right there to stop the bleeding –"

"Don't you dare try and credit me with anything," she nearly snapped at him, sharply turning away and nearly putting her back to him. It was the first time she'd ever raised her voice at him and he was completely lost for what to do. "If it wasn't for me she never would've gone on that date. None of this would've happened."

Spencer's face fell and now he turned to her, reaching out and resting his fingers lightly against her arm. She sniffed and leaned just a hint into his touch, though she didn't look at him. "Aria… this isn't your fault. I – I don't know what things you're telling yourself, or what Morgan said to you –"

"He told me all I wanted was to look like a good friend, and if I'd just listened to him she wouldn't have almost –" Aria cut off with a choked sob and hunched in further on herself. Spencer shook his head, trying to keep the anger repressed, knowing it wouldn't do anything to help.

"He had no right to say that to you –"

"He did, though. It's true. That's why it hurts so much," she sniffed as her shoulders hunched further down. "He was right, Reid. He told me over and over that this guy was bad news and I just ignored him and my instincts because I didn't want to hurt Penelope's feelings."

Spencer was silent for several long moments. He knew exactly what he wanted to say, but if he knew Aria – and he liked to think he did – she wouldn't truly believe his words. No matter how many times he tried to tell her it wasn't her fault, she wasn't going to let herself off the hook. With all the guilt she was feeling –

Guilt.

Aria and guilt.

His mind instantly patched the two words together and suddenly he was back several months ago, in a field in Dallas. She'd spoken about guilt and she'd helped someone else see their way past the blame they were trying to put on themselves…

He knew exactly what to say to her.

"We are not responsible for the decisions someone else makes. What we control is how we handle fallout of those decisions," Spencer said softly. He'd turned to look down at her and he saw her head cock to the side as she processed what he'd told her. Finally she turned to look up at him again.

Her teary eyes blinked up at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"That's what you told Detective Yarbrough," he explained, watching the realization light up behind her eyes. "You told him not to blame himself for what happened to Michelle Colucci. That he couldn't be expected to know when a criminal would choose to attack."

She sighed, clearly at a loss for how to argue with him over the words she'd said herself. "Yeah, but this is different. Morgan told me –"

"He gave you his opinion," Spencer argued gently, shaking his head. "The only thing he had to back up what he said was his own feelings, just like you had for your decision to encourage Garcia. When you look at the probability of how the night could turn out, it was – to put it simply – a fifty-fifty shot for either of you to be right. It just so happens that his side of the coin was the one that landed face-up, so to speak."

Aria's eyes flickered between his own, looking for any sign he wasn't being truthful. Again, he held her stare firmly, letting his unrelenting honesty show through as much as he could. She pressed her lips together and finally asked in a small voice, "do you blame me?"

"No. Not at all," he said instantly, giving a small shake of his head. "Neither does JJ, or Emily, or Morgan. He's scared for Garcia, and he's upset with himself, just like you are. He doesn't really blame you. None of us do, I promise."

The pain on her face finally began to crack. The smallest hint of a smile fluttered over her lips as she sniffed and wiped at her cheeks again. She could hear the genuine tone in his voice, see the honesty in the gaze he didn't move from hers, and hopefully she was letting it start to settle in.

She turned to fully face him, and for a moment Spencer didn't get what she was doing. She stepped forward, arms reaching out for him, fingers nearly brushing his sweater before she paused.

A hug. She'd been moving to hug him.

"I'm sorry," Aria said quickly, starting to pull back, giving an apologetic grimace. "You hate touch and I sort of… well, I kind of always get up in your space. I'm sorry." She paused, and then actually winced as she added, "and I totally used you as a pillow earlier. I'm sorry."

Yes. Yes, she had used him as a pillow. For seventy-three minutes she'd slept restlessly against him, and he hadn't minded one bit. Maybe it was a bit over-the-top to say so, but he'd felt special that she'd felt safe and comfortable enough to lean on him. No one ever had before, and he realized right then he would let her do it again in a heartbeat. Her touch didn't bother him, and he could count on one. hand the number of people he could truly say that about.

That's why he didn't hesitate when he said softly, "you can hug me. If – if you want to."

She didn't even hesitate, slipping her arms around his waist almost before he'd finished speaking. He waited to hear the teasing about how it was just like hugging a bag of bones like JJ had teased the first time he'd let her do so. Maybe she'd joke like Morgan had about how she couldn't hug him too long because she might break his scrawny ass in half.

When all she did was tuck her head to his chest and take a deep breath, he genuinely didn't know what to do. The feeling was something he'd never felt before, let alone while he was holding onto someone He could feel her relaxing against him, feel the way her arms tightened a bit, how she nestled her face a little closer into his sweater… he felt soft.

Slowly, he wrapped his own arms around her shoulders. Sure, he knew she was short, but holding her against him, he'd never noticed how small she was. In fact, even in her heels, she hardly cleared his shoulder. His arms easily fully enveloped her, and when she burrowed even further into his hold it felt like she'd clicked right into place, like she'd meant to be there all along.

Neither of them moved for an immeasurable amount of time. He committed every single detail of the next several moments to memory, overly grateful that his eidetic mind would let him do so. From the soft scent of her rose-and-sandalwood perfume, to the feel her small hands tangling into his sweater, to the feel of her taking in several slow breaths, each one settling her sniffles until finally they stopped altogether.

"Thank you," she murmured against his chest, still not moving even though they probably should've by now. In response, Spencer's arms tightened a bit around her; he felt her smile against his sweater.

"I told you, I'll always help you if you'll let me," he reminded her. Whether it was with her homework, or near-cannibalism, or even just her being a little too hard on herself, he would help.

Maybe one day that'd count towards all the other things she was holding back from him, too. For now, though, he'd gotten her tears to stop. When they finally stepped apart, he saw her smile lingering too.

Reid couldn't say he was the most outgoing, or the best at small talk, or even halfway-decent at reading emotions. He wasn't charismatic or empathetic, or even all that friendly or relatable. Tonight, though, none of that mattered because he could say he'd been enough.

Y'all I'm so sorry I squicked so many of you with the chili! I can't lie though I'm glad you all suffered with me because that was just... *shudders*. I hope this chapter somewhat made things better!... except it was super angsty... I'm sorry!

I hope you still liked the chapter though. What do you think about how Morgan reacted? Is Aria being too hard on herself or do you think she should've listened to him? What about her and Reid?! I'm excited to hear what you thought!

Next week's chapter will be less angsty - but just as intense! Thank you guys so much for reading. I love all of you that support myself and the story. It means more to me than I can say!

Remember - if you'd like to see extras for the story (and some Spencer x Reader one shots) visit recollins . Tumblr . com! I have some edits and GIF's I've made for the story that y'all might enjoy.

Have a B-E-A-UTIFUL week, and I'll see you Monday!