A/N: hey guys! Sorry for the awful long wait yet again. But my exams are done now so good news all round! I hope people are still reading this story, because I love writing it and I know people liked it. I can't believe I started this story over 4 months ago! Time flys! Also, on Saturday, in this story it would be the wedding of Spelia, so I'm definitely going to be giving you at least two chapters then! Anyway, I'm rambling again. Here we go with Spence's POV
19th September 2011, Quantico, Virginia
SpencerPOV
"No, no please Spencer help me! Spencer! Spencer!"
I jolted awake, feeling Amelia thrashing next to me, screaming my name. It broke my heart into a million tiny pieces to hear it. It had been the same way every single night since I had got her back. She would scream and cry from nightmares which occurred two to three times a night. She was slowly beginning to get better though; she would have her first bout of nightmares later and later into the night. I looked at the clock, 3.30am, the latest time so far.
I pinned her arms down, or at least attempted to, trying to stop her from hurting me or herself. It wasn't working, she was still thrashing. Swallowing my embarrassment, I straddled her waist and pinned her arms down that way. "Wake up Amy, wake up, it's me Spencer, you're safe." I kept repeating in her ear, hoping to wake her.
Around two minutes later, she jolted awake. "Spencer" she choked out, burying her face into my chest, and beginning to sob. "I'm sorry I woke you up." She said through her tears.
I wrapped my arms around her, rocking her slightly and pressing kisses to her forehead. "Don't be silly, you never be sorry for that you silly, silly woman. I'm here for you, I'm always here for you." I whispered, repeating the mantra over and over again, hoping that it would sink in for her.
She stopped crying eventually, looking up at me. "I look a mess, sorry you have to look at me like this." She said, hiccupping at the end of her sentence.
I looked at her, her hair was in messy curls, her eyes red, eyelashes wet and tear tracks down her cheeks. She had a red snotty nose and her pjs as well as mine were wet with tears. Some may say she looks terrible, but to me she was still the most beautiful girl in the world.
"As you have constantly been telling me, don't be an eejit. You are, always have been, and always will be the most beautiful woman in the world." I said, brushing hair out of her eyes.
She hugged me, burying her face into my chest, she let out a small giggle, "Why are you sitting on me?"
I reddened, moving to roll over, "you nearly hurt yourself, I was trying to stop you from falling out of the bed and-"
I was interrupted by a kiss, "Stop rambling eejit, I'm not complaining. Though, I do want to try sleeping again, and that might be easier if you weren't sitting on me." She said with a small smile.
Before I moved, she reached out and cupped my face, caressing my cheek with her thumb, "What did I do to deserve a man as good as you?" she whispered, "I'm very lucky."
I moved off of her, pulling her close to my body so she was near as we slept. I draped my arm over her waist, "I am the lucky one. Now try and sleep." I said, kissing her head.
She was asleep before she could argue with my statement; the nightmares were really taking it out of her.
As I lay there, holding her close and feeling her steady breathing and heartbeat, I thought over the week we had together. Some days were easier than others; some days she would wake first, and I would wake to the smell of a cooked breakfast, or the sound of her singing. She was an excellent singer; she could've easily worked to the stage if she had wanted to.
Some days I would wake to the sounds of her playing piano music, those were the in between days, the days where she felt not her best, but not her worst.
Only once had we had a truly bad day. I woke to her staring at the wall. She didn't speak, didn't move, I had to force her to eat. She simply stared at the wall and cried, and there was nothing I could do to help except hold her and kiss her head, telling her everything would be alright even though I knew that statistically the odds were that she would never be the same again.
Thankfully though, the good days outnumbered the okay and bad ones.
I soon found myself drifting to the sleep, praying to a God that I didn't think existed that Amelia would be okay once I began work next week.
"I see a little silhouetteo of a man. Scaramouche, Scaramouche will you do the fandango?! "
I opened my eyes groggily, turning to the clock on Amelia's bedside table, 9.30am. I sat up. The smell of pancakes and the sound of Amelia singing was in the air. I followed the noise, leaning against the kitchen door frame in amusement.
She had her laptop out, playing music. I could tell from the album cover on the screen that it was one of her favourite bands, Queen. She was still in her PJs, though was wearing a cupcake apron and liberally covered in flour. Her hair was in a bun and her glasses in place as she danced around the kitchen in a pair of my socks, flipping pancakes as she danced.
She put the pan down, making up two plates. I decided to make myself known, not wanting to surprise her as she was still quite jumpy. I turned down the music slowly, so she knew that I was there.
Sure enough, she turned to see me, her eyes sparkling and her face bright. Ah, so it would be a good day. She was already beginning to heal; she had only had one nightmare two nights in a row. This was progress.
"Morning" she sang out, handing me a plate and a coffee cup, "eat while it's hot" she added, sitting herself on one of the barstools in her kitchen.
I sat next to her, digging into my breakfast as she did. God, she was an amazing cook. It must be the Italian genes. She finished first, "I'm going to go shower, so do what you like. I . . . I want to try going outside today. Just to the store, but it's a start right?" she asked
I nodded, pride etched on my face, "That's so good Amy; it shows how well you are coping with everything."
"By the time you start back, I want to be able to do things independently again, so that way I can start work again a week after you do." She added, moving to shower after she kissed my cheek.
Whereas at the start of the week, when we had just returned, that didn't seem possible, it now seemed more and more likely that Amelia would return to work as planned. I was so proud of her for being able to do this, for being so strong. She was my inspiration.
