"Rare as is true love, true friendship is rarer."
– Jean de la Fontaine
Daisy sat on her and Spencer's couch, a package of peas pressed against her eye in order to help the swelling of her black eye. She hissed in pain and leaned back against the side of the couch, ignoring the bruise on her shoulder from a kick Cyrus had sent flying into her during his brutal beating of her while they had been at the Sectarian Sect. Her and Reid had come to the ranch in order to interview the children about a possible predator on the campus.
Little had they known that they were going to be caught in the middle of a hostage situation when the state police did a raid on the ranch at the same time they were there. The press had gotten word that an undercover FBI agent was inside, blowing their cover as just child victim interview experts. Cyrus had demanded that they reveal which one of them was the agent, and Spencer had tried to play it like they had no idea what they were talking about. But then Cyrus had shoved a gun in Spencer's face and Daisy had panicked, revealing herself as the agent to keep Spencer safe.
Luckily, they two had managed to make it out of the situation alive, and nearly all the women, children, and regular members had made it out.
Daisy ran a hand through her red hair, the tendrils for once down and out of their regular tight bun or braid. Daisy peeked over towards the kitchen, where Spencer was tittering about, making some kind of tea or coffee. Daisy wasn't sure which.
The two sat in uncomfortable silence, the only sounds being the clinks and clatters Spencer made in the kitchen. Daisy could feel the anger radiating off of Spencer in waves – the way he refused to look at her, how he crossed his arms when he did look at her, the flush of his cheeks. Spencer was beyond angry with her, and Daisy supposed she couldn't really be mad at him for being mad at her.
But Daisy didn't regret what she did. She would do it again in a heartbeat, if it meant that she could save Spencer from a beating like the one she had received. Daisy had feared that Cyrus was going to kill Spencer, and she had done the only thing she thought she could do at the time to save him. She couldn't live in a world where Spencer died, and she did nothing to stop it.
Spencer finished in the kitchen and walked over towards her, two mugs in his hands. Both of them were chipped, as was most of their mugs, given how they often bumped into things. They had stains scattered across their apartment from where tea or coffee spilled due to the two of them almost always being distracted, either with reading or cases, as they walked to and from places in their apartment for two.
Spencer set one gently on the coffee table wordlessly and then turned to her. Anger was still present in his face, but there was something else in it. Concern for her.
"Are you okay?" he asked once, not one scant of emotion in his voice. Daisy nodded once, dumbly.
"Yes."
He bit his lip. "Good."
Spencer turned on his heel to leave, the cup still in his hand, apparently having no intention of sitting with her as he would usually. Daisy watched him go, and he was halfway down the hallway to his bedroom before Daisy could even think of what to say.
Daisy jumped to her feet, ignoring the ache in her legs, and she dropped the bag of peas onto the couch, leaving a wet stain of water on the green fabric.
"Spencer, wait –"
Spencer stopped in front of his bedroom door, mug still in his hand and his head hung down towards his feet. Daisy stood behind him, a few feet behind, a hand reached out to him, but too far away to actually touch him.
They stood like that for a few moments, locked in a battle of wills to see who would turn first. Would Daisy return to the couch, and let Spencer stew? Or would Spencer turn to her, face her again after today?
It was Daisy who won, and Spencer turned to face her, the faintest of pinks beneath his eyes and a fiery anger in the brown of his pupils. An anger that Daisy had never seen levelled at her, not this intense, not this seriously.
"How could you?" he hissed. Daisy blinked and brought her hand to back to herself, holding it close to her chest. "How could—Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? Cyrus could have killed you Daisy. What were you thinking?"
Daisy frowned and took a step forward, her own expression full of rage now.
"I was trying to save your life," Daisy defended. "Cyrus had a gun to your head, Spencer! What was I supposed to do? Let him shoot you?"
"Yes!"
Daisy blinked and stared up at Spencer, who's anger had not completely dissipated but was now clouded with another emotion. Something that was overshadowing it, making it harder to notice, and it was something that Daisy could not name. It was strong, whatever it was, and it caused Daisy to take a step back, not completely of her own accord.
Spencer took a heavy breath and looked down at his socked feet.
"You should have let him shoot me," Spencer whispered. "I could-I would have been fine, Daisy." He took a shaky breath and looked at her steadily, zeroed in on her black eye and busted lip. "And yo-you got hurt because of me, trying to protect me. And yo-you shouldn't."
Daisy took a deep breath, sucking in all the air she could in order to build her strength, and then she reached and took his hand in hers, giving it a tight squeeze.
"This isn't your fault," Daisy soothed. Spencer blinked and then shook his head.
"But you did it to save me from –"
"That doesn't mean it's your fault," Daisy cut him off. She squeezed his hand again, this time much gentler. Trying to convey to him that she did not blame him for what happened to her. "It's Cyrus's fault. He's the one who did this to me. Don't blame yourself. Blame him."
Spencer's brown eyes met hers in turn, and they stared at each other for a long moment in silence. Just the two of them, lost in a moment together as they both tried to make sense of the other. Daisy knew no matter what she said that Spencer was going to keep blaming himself for what happened to her. He loved so deeply, so completely that he took it as his mission to protect others at all costs.
It was a holdover from his life growing up with his mother, where it had become his job at such a young age to take care of her. Make sure she took her medicines on time, make sure that she didn't hurt herself in her delusions. His mother was a genius just like him, an English professor in another life, but she also needed help due to schizophrenia, an illness that often overtook her. And when Spencer was nine years old, he had become the one that had to pull her back from the darkness when it became too much.
And now he felt like he had to protect those he loved. That it was his fault alone when those he loved got hurt, and it was on him to take the burden of keeping them safe. It's why he so often put himself into danger – why when tracking Hankel he let JJ go into the barn while he went into the field, why he went in to meet the Fisher King, why he did so many illogical things in the name of protecting those he cared for.
Spencer let out a cracked cry. "You could have died, Daisy."
"But I didn't," Daisy said. She took her other hand and reached to caress his cheek, running her thumb along his cheekbone gently. "I'm here, in front of you. I'm still here. So don't blame yourself."
Spencer frowned and reached up to take the hand on his cheek in his own, giving it a tight squeeze.
"You made me promise that I would tell you when I did something dangerous," Spencer whispered. "That we would share the risk." He let out a shaky breath. "I didn't understand why then. But I do now."
Daisy had made him promise that, that was true. And when that promise was made, she had had every intention of following that too, even if she hadn't been the one to say the words. But there had been no time this go around. It had been time to think on instinct. She had been faced with one of two possibilities, either her death or Spencer's. And she had realized in a millisecond which one she would choose.
"I didn't understand," Spencer whispered again. He shut his eyes. "I didn't understand, what it would feel like to wonder if you were dead or alive. To think you were dead." He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, and her eyes widened at the contact, but she said nothing in protest. "It nearly killed me, thinking you were gone."
"But I'm not," she murmured. "I'm here. With you."
Daisy looked into Spencer's face, and the pain etched on it. Daisy had made a choice, and as she watched the waves of hurt crash over her best friend, she realized he would have made the same choice for her.
Daisy reached up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek gently before wrapping him in a hug.
"I love you Spencer," Daisy said. It was true. Spencer, aside from Drew, was the most important person in her life. The person she could count on and lean on. She loved his kindness, his intelligence, his determination. All of him, she loved all of him. Every piece, every flaw, even parts that annoyed her she loved. "And I can't promise I won't do this again, because if it came down to it, I would do this again. But know this – it's not your fault, okay?"
Spencer eventually returned her hug, whispered into her hair his answer.
"Okay."
Daisy and Spencer eventually pulled back from their embrace, and Daisy looked up at him, still closer to Spencer than perhaps a friend should be. She took one step closer, almost of it's own accord, and Spencer's breath hitched.
"I-Is this too close?" Daisy asked. Spencer hesitated and then he shook his head as an assurance it was not too close. Somehow in the space between them, Daisy felt their hands find each other. It created a link between them and sent a spark up her arm. And then, before she could think about it too deeply and convince herself it was stupid, she reached up and she kissed his lips.
There was a moment of surprise from Spencer, but it was so quick it was almost negligible. Because after that second, he began to react in time to the kiss. His lips were soft and warm, and Daisy noted that he tasted like coffee creamer and smelled liked paper. The paper smell was nothing new, but that with the coffee creamer made her feel like she was home. That this was meant to be, that this moment wasn't a mistake.
They broke away a second later, and Daisy looked up at him with wide eyes. Spencer stared back with the same expression of startlement and confusion. But not regret. No, Daisy could not find it in her to regret it.
So she reached up, and she kissed him again. And he kissed her back, again.
"When Jesus heard it, he saith unto them, 'They that are whole have no need of the physician, but that they are sick: I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." -Mark 2:17
