A/N: Thanks a ton for the feedback on this story, Guestdod, spygoose, Guest and Beagle Brother! Special thanks to Zadicas for their eloquent review. It made my day. Thank you so, so much.

"Not even in my weakest moment have I considered letting you go"

– Judith McNaught

Though with a fractured skull, a permanently deformed arm and broken knees - Monica would live. That was enough. It was enough to sustain him for now.
Spencer waited outside with Rossi while Monica's family went in to meet her. She had regained consciousness that morning. His own injuries were healing too. He had had a bump on his head from Beatrice's blows. Within three days, the swelling had gone down. But Beatrice had shot to maim. Yet the doctor had sounded optimistic about the gunshot wound on Spencer's shoulder. They were going to remove the dressing in a few days.
He didn't want Monica to see it. She had a tendency to worry and get really loud whenever he was hurt. Hence the cardigan and the buttoned-up shirt. He smiled, thinking about the time a bullet had grazed his arm while dealing with an UnSub.
"You swear?", she had asked.
"I swear. It doesn't even hurt anymore"
"Okay... if you say so. Did you get him?"
"Yeah. He is in custody"
"Where?"
"In New Jersey"
"Which prison?"
"The... why do you want to know?"
"I'm just curious. What's his name and home address?"
Spencer had laughed at her.
"What are you going to do? Chop down the trees in his yard?"
"I wouldn't do that to a tree! I would do that to him though"
"Right"
He had told her what he believed.
"You're incapable of hurting people, Monica. I knew that the first time I saw you"
"You did?", she had smiled.
"Yes. Now, give me my shirt back"
"You should let the wound breathe"
"Those are half sleeves. Give it to me"
"How about no?"
"I know what you're doing. Give it back. I don't look good without my shirt on"
"Oh yeah? Was I licking your non-existant abs last weekend?"
"You stop it. Give me my shirt back"
"Come and get it!"
He glanced down at himself. He was wearing the green shirt she had bought him on April 14 and given to him three days later, the one with the pine trees embroidered on it. He hoped she would notice it. What she would also notice though, probably, was how terrible he looked. Penelope had brought him the change of clothes at his request, but he hadn't actually seen his own image for the last three days.
"Rossi?"
"Yeah"
"Can we go to your car? The men's room here doesn't have a mirror. And my phone doesn't have a front camera", Spencer felt embarrassed to say, "I want to get a look at myself before Monica sees me"
The senior agent smiled at him with paternal affection. He stood up.
"Come on"
They walked out of the hospital wing towards the parking lot.

Inside the hospital room, Monica was doing her best to remain conscious. She was still on a heavy amount of morphine. But she could see her family gathered around one side of her bed. Her mother was kissing her face.
"My brave girl, my little darling..."
"Mom", Catherine said.
Dr. Fleming smiled at Monica and stepped back. The Knights were all smiling down at her. She was happy to see them, of course. But the first words Monica spoke after defeating death were -
"Dr. Reid..."
Max and Audrey shared a knowing look. Monica had to speak up. She could barely hear her own voice.
"How is he?"
"He is fine, Mon", Audrey said.
"She shot him"
"He is okay now"
Monica asked,
"How do you know?"
Her father told her.
"He has been waiting right outside, sweetie. You have... you haven't been well for a while. Spencer stayed right here all the time. His friends couldn't get him to go home. He wouldn't move until the doctors told him you were better"
The thought of him being in pain was replaced by the thought of him still caring about her, forgiving her. A tear streaked down Monica's face. Her voice sounded raspy.
"He... he's been waiting for me?"
"Yes", Max said, "He is right outside, Mon. He is waiting to meet you"
She croaked,
"He is?"
Her brother nodded. Monica closed her eyes and turned her face upwards. Life had been breathed back into her again.
He had stayed. When she had given him reason enough to leave, he had stayed.
In spite of her happiness, doubt lingered nearby. His staying at the hospital didn't mean he still loved her. Misplaced guilt could do that too.
Monica opened her eyes when Audrey stepped up to wipe her tears.
"Does anyone have a mirror?", she said, "I don't want him to see me looking like a patient"
Mr. Knight laughed in relief. He and his wife held each other, sighing in content.
"Let me do her hair"
"Maybe you should fix your own hair first"
"I'm calling dibs on the hair!"
"Touch my hair and I'll strangle you with my catheter, George"
"Audrey, do you have a wet wipe?", Max said, "I'm just going to wipe your face clean, Mon. Is that okay?"
"I need eyeliner, stat!"
"No eyeliner, George! Jesus!"
"Cherry chapstick - for real, Cathy?"
They watched the children take care of their little sister's appearance.

Spencer stood outside her door, holding a book close to his heart. It was one of her favourites. He had planned to record an audiobook of it for her next birthday. But it seemed right for him to bring it to her now.
Dr. Fleming stepped out, followed by the rest of the Knights. He hadn't been able to look them in the eye. Part of him knew it was ridiculous, but he still felt guilty for not having protected Monica from Beatrice. Her family seemed to bear him no ill-will though. Max smiled at him.
"If you don't go in soon, she's gonna come out looking for you"
George gave his shoulder a friendly pat as they walked past him. Spencer steeled himself for a moment before taking the first step in.

Past the white blinds, right across the windows, Monica was sitting up in her hospital bed. She was looking at him and smiling. The doctors had put a neck brace on her, reminding him how severe her head injuries were. Her disfigured arm was half under the sleeve of her hospital gown, but the white bandage along its length was clearly visible. She looked neat, but tired.
'The morphine', he figured.
"Hi", she said.
His throat felt tighter.
"Hi"
Seeing Monica alive and (somewhat) well made him want to do things one shouldn't do to a trauma patient. It was an excess of relief and gratitude. He contained it within himself with much effort. Monica invited him to sit on her bed by patting the space next to her. Spencer sat down by her side, reminding himself not to burst into tears.
Monica said,
"How are you? How's your head?"
"It's okay. It was a mild concussion"
"And your shoulder? Let me see your shoulder"
"It's fine"
"Let me see it"
To prevent her from reaching forward towards him, he took off his cardigan. He undid a few buttons on his shirt and held it open to reveal the bandage on his shoulder. Monica's fingertips passed gently around his bandage.
"Stitches?"
He said,
"Five"
"Please tell me you didn't refuse the painkillers"
"I had to"
She looked up at him with tearful eyes.
"You should look at yourself"
"This is all my f..."
"No", he interrupted her, "This is on Beatrice, not you"
She asked,
"She's dead. Right?"
"Yeah"
Monica nodded. Spencer buttoned up his shirt again. Reminiscing about that horrible woman, he had to ask.
"How did you know she had kicked your gun under the couch?"
She said,
"I saw it when I was on the floor. It was either a great coincidence or divine intervention. Or a dumb stroke of luck - none of which I believe in"
Whatever it was, he knew it had saved their lives. Some things, Spencer believed, were out of the ambit of explanation. As long as it had ensured Monica would live, he didn't mind what powers had been at work.
"You finally wore it"
He looked up to find Monica was talking about his shirt. She smiled.
"I actually wanted to buy the one with pumpkins on it, 'cause it would remind us of Halloween, but they didn't have it in your size. So I got this instead. I like it. Pine trees are evergreen"
"I like it too"
"I'm glad you do"
Monica paused before saying,
"I'm going to have to incorporate a wheelchair in my Halloween costume this year, aren't I? I hate the idea of me being in a wheelchair. It's so... paretic"
"What did the doctor say?"
"She was vague. I mean, I haven't lost all mobility. I am pretty sure I can move my legs once they take this stupid cast off"
"Are you having headaches?"
"Not really"
"Don't lie"
"Sorry. It's a common after-effect of head trauma, you know that. Nothing to worry about"
"And... your arm?"
She scoffed.
"Itchy like hell, and I assume, hideous"
Spencer didn't respond to that. They sat in silence until Monica spoke.
"I know we aren't together anymore but, I really appreciate you coming to see me. Max was saying something about your colleagues being hurt. When I asked him, he pretended he didn't know what I was talking about. Are they okay?"
"Yeah"
"What happened? Did... did she get to them before coming to us?"
"It's a long story. I can tell you later"
"Thank you. I would like that"
He gave a nod. She finally noticed the book on his lap.
"What's that?"
Monica was looking at him. A small smile had been playing on her lips ever since he had arrived. But ghosts of words said before hung between them still. He knew he couldn't change the past. He just hoped to replace those bitter words he had said with the ones she deserved to hear. She spoke before he could.
"I... look, I know you can't be with me anymore. Considering what I have put you through, I don't blame you. I just... this is going to sound selfish but... I don't want to lose my best friend. Maybe someday I'll learn how to stop loving you but it won't be any soon. I hate to sound so co-dependent and oh hell, I'm rambling", she gave a wary laugh.
He listened in silence as Monica said,
"What I want to say is - if possible, if you want it too that is, could we..."
"I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach"
Monica's smile disappeared. Like precursors to a storm, her eyes filled with tears again. Spencer mastered his voice. Try as he may, it trembled.
"You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. I offer myself to you again with a heart... even more your own than when you almost broke it..."
His speech failed him as Monica burst into tears. Spencer reached forward to embrace her. The Persuasion paperback slipped from his lap onto hers. He held her in his arms as she cried. Her crying always made him cry. So he let it.
When he had gained some semblance of control, Spencer withdrew to look at her face. He was full of hope as he asked her -
"Will you take me back?"
Monica looked up at his face, sobbing.
"When did I ever let you go?"