Author's Note: this is a continuation from the last part. She opens up a lot due to the fact that she's on pain medicine. The college graduation part of this actually happened to me and I just thought I'd add it in.

Spencer stayed with her during visiting hours and through the night. She was allowed one person to stay with her and she had chosen him. His friends had come by to see her, Garcia bringing a teddy bear and flowers, and then her friends had come by as well. None of them had stayed too long, mostly because she had started to become overwhelmed but also because she'd gotten a headache and started to feel nauseated from the head wound. It was normal for someone with a concussion to experience those things, so he wasn't that worried.

Spencer hated hospitals – germs, the weird lights, just everything about them was unsettling to him – but he'd found that he couldn't say no when she'd asked him to stay. Knowing she would need a ride home tomorrow he'd even offered to take a personal day.

"You shouldn't take a personal day just for that. There are probably other things you'd like to do."

"You're gonna be in a lot of pain tomorrow," he said. "I mean, you're not going to be able to use your arm really, and you're still going to have a headache – you might have that for a while. You need someone to take you home and I really don't mind taking a personal day and spending it with you."

"I . . . Okay."

Her cheeks took on a pink tint, which really showed up since her face was otherwise pale due to blood loss and shock – even though she claimed she was fine.

He hadn't really left her side since he'd gotten there even when she had drifted in and out of sleep between other people visiting. He'd gotten up to go get food and coffee and that was it.

"Spencer?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you for everything. For coming when I called and staying because I asked you to. I'm – I'm really not used to that."

"What? Someone being a good friend?"

"No. A guy being nice to me without wanting something in return. I mean, even my dad doesn't really talk to me unless he needs something from me."

"I'm sorry. I, uh . . . never really knew my dad. He left when I was young and what I do remember isn't great. I think he wanted a more normal family."

"Oh. Well, that's on him. Not you."

Spencer still hadn't talked to her about his mother and all he'd gone through with that and he honestly didn't know when he should bring it up. He knew if he really wanted to be with her that he would have to be honest about it so that she wouldn't possibly be going into something blind, but now definitely wasn't the time to bring it up. He did know that.

"I think . . . I think the reason I like you so much is because you're, like, the exact opposite of my dad."

"Uh-oh. Latent daddy issues?" he teased.

She shook her head and laughed a little. "No. And don't make me laugh. It's not helping my head at all."

"Sorry, sorry." He smiled. "What did you mean then?"

"Well, just little things mostly, but you're already different in that the last time I was in the hospital my dad never even came to see me and he kind of got annoyed at me when I called him. I was still living with my grandmother at the time so he wasn't even that far away and he didn't come see me. Didn't ask how I was when I talked to him."

"I would never not come see you if you were in the hospital. And I'm never annoyed when you call me. I like hearing from you."

She went on as though he hadn't spoken, but he knew she'd heard him.

"He's always late. If he says he's going to be somewhere at a certain time, you can bet he's going to be at least an hour later than that. He has no time management skills at all. You've never kept me waiting – ever."

Spencer noticed that her voice was getting softer and he was sure she was going to talk herself to sleep. It was getting darker and the nurse had given her medicine to relax her, so it wouldn't be abnormal for her to fall asleep from it.

"You know, he even almost missed my college graduation. He knew the ceremony was at 11:00 and he waited until the morning of to go to the laundromat – the washer at his house was broken, and don't even get me started on how long it took him to get a new one. But anyway, it fits his pattern. He's late for everything – bills, insurance, even getting the tags on his car renewed, which meant I chauffeured him around a lot when I lived near him. He knew I would do it, so why bother?"

Now her voice was soft because she had tears in her eyes and was about to cry. Spencer realized the medicine must've made her thoughts and mouth a little looser. She'd never really talked about her dad before.

"I used to be afraid of him. He could get so angry, and I've never seen you angry. I mean, yeah, you've been upset, but you never shout or hit things or throw things."

Spencer's back stiffened as tension filled him. For one, he hoped she wasn't implying what he thought she was, and two . . . he hoped she didn't regret telling him this when the medicine wore off.

"He was angry a lot when I was a kid. But the worst was that you could do something one time and he'd be fine with it. The next time you do it, he would pitch a fit. I would walk on egg shells around him a lot of the time. I'm glad I didn't actually live with him. I mean, he never hurt me or anyone else, but he would still hit the wall or something, still scare us sometimes."

Spencer had no clue what to say to any of that and sometimes the best thing to do was just listen and not say a word, so that was what he did. He did, however, let himself process that she'd been through a form of mental abuse as a child – she probably didn't even consider it that. Victims of abuse sometimes didn't think of what they went through as abuse. Some even came to think of it as normal.

"He was really hard to get close to. I mean, you couldn't even have a conversation with the guy. He would stop talking to you if you didn't agree with what he said."

"I love talking with you," he said. "I wouldn't stop talking to you just because we don't agree on something."

Her not liking loud or sudden noises made sense now – not that sensory overload didn't make sense, but this could be another reason for it. She'd grown up around yelling and anger.

"And, to be honest, you're not someone I can imagine being mad at or not enough to shout at you. I don't get that type of angry. I don't want you to ever be afraid of me."

"I never have been," she said. "Despite you being a profiler, you're pretty open emotionally . . . or at least you have been with me.

"I have," he agreed. It was almost disconcerting to him. "Anything else I need to clarify?"

"I don't know. I – he never physically left my mom, but sometimes it was like he did. He would go years without a job and she'd have to make do on a minimum wage job – retail or something like that and sometimes she'd have to not pay a bill just so they would have food on the table. And he was there. That's the thing. He was physically there, he just wouldn't be working or providing for his family, for my mom and my brother. It used to make me so mad and I wasn't even living with them."

Her dad sounded like he had a classic case of the Peter Pan Syndrome and had never wanted to grow up. He imagined her dad had never had to answer for anything he'd done as a child and so didn't know how to take responsibility for anything.

"I don't mind taking care of you," he said softly, "if you'll let me."

She didn't respond vocally, but she did let a small smile grace her lips even as a few more tears fell down her cheeks.

"I think you should sleep," he said. "I think the medicine is making you say things you might not have."

"Probably. But I'm glad I'm saying it to you and not someone else."

She calmed herself down and closed her eyes, but she still didn't sleep. He knew because a few minutes later she was looking to him again.

"Can I hold you hand again?" Her voice was quiet and a little hoarse even. "I know you don't, you know, really do that, but you let me earlier."

He pressed his lips together to keep from grinning and offered up his hand.

"Apparently I don't mind with you."

"Hm." She slipped her hand over his and slid her fingers between his. "I will consider myself special then."

"Very special.

It didn't take long for her to go to sleep once she decided to stay quiet for more than a few minutes. He stayed there in the chair beside her that night. Not that he'd been planning on leaving, but after her confessing all of the things she had he would've stayed with her anyway. He would not have left her to feel vulnerable when she woke up the next morning.

In a way, he was glad she'd opened up to him. In a completely different way, he wasn't, because he now felt he really had to open up to her too – especially since he was feeling a certain type of way about her. There were parts of his past he was scared to share with her – things that had nothing to do with his mom at all and more to do with his job and things that had come about because of his job.

She would have to know about them before he let her know how he felt about her because it seemed she felt for him at least some of what he was feeling for her.

He would have to be honest with her.