The team sat around the waiting room in silence for a few hours, waiting for someone to tell them how Spencer was doing. Derek ran a hand over the back of his neck, thinking to himself. The last week and a half had been some of the most painful times in his adult life, and he wasn't sure he'd ever forgive Spencer. Now, all he cared about was hearing that he was alive and seeing him smile again. Spencer had taken that stabbing for him, and it was his fault he'd gotten hurt, no matter how the team wanted to put it.

"Can I get you anything?" Rossi asked, sitting beside him. He looked around the waiting room and saw everyone else on the team had fallen asleep, and it was only the two of them.

He swallowed, shaking his head. "I'm fine." He wrung his hands, looking at the floor.

"Come on, let's go for a walk."

"I don't-" he started.

"If there's any word, Hotch is going to let you know right away. Do you really think he wouldn't?"

He pushed himself out of the chair, making sure his phone was turned up all the way, before he followed Rossi outside.

"It's okay to still be mad at him," Rossi started, putting his hands in his pockets.

He took a deep breath, nodding slightly. "I know."

"Just because he got hurt for you, it doesn't erase what he did."

He nodded again, wordlessly this time.

"With that said, did something happen with you two on this case?" When Derek looked up at him, he put his hands up. "Off the record, it doesn't go anywhere but between the two of us."

"I ignored him when we got here," he admitted. "It was easier that way. I wasn't ready to confront him, but when I had a minute to myself, I found myself listening to the voicemails and reading the text messages." He raised his eyebrows. "He even offered to leave the FBI, if that's what I needed for closure."

"Would you have made him do it?"

He shook his head. "I couldn't have done that to the team, even if he was ready to up and leave if I said the word. We'd be lost without him, and let's be honest, no other genius would fit in with this team as well as he does, and we'd hate whatever pain in the ass they brought in to replace him."

Rossi chuckled. "Isn't that the truth?"

"After we landed, we went to the coroner, and he offered to walk, and considering we weren't talking, I let him. He made it about a mile before I pulled over and saw him in pain because of his knee. I drove him, and we were quiet until we got to the station."

"Trust me, you two weren't too chatty there, either. I'm willing to bet he was talking about the symbolism on the drive?"

"Moreso, he was mumbling about it."

"Of course he was."

He ran a hand over his scalp. "We got to our room and there was only a single bed, which I can't really blame Hotch for, considering he didn't know something was going on. Before either of us could say anything, he called room service for some blankets and pillows and made a makeshift bed on the floor under the desk."

"And you let him, even with his knee?"

He shrugged. "I didn't argue with it. I got out of the shower and he had an ice pack on his knee and had buried himself in the case, meaning he was all but dead to the world."

"Did anything happen tonight? Before, you know, the events?"

He exhaled, nodding. "He got a phone call during the stakeout, and he had to get out of the car and talk to answer it. I assumed it was something with his mother so I let it slide. He got back into the car, and I asked him if everything was okay."

"Is his mother okay?"

"She's fine, and alive and well in Vegas, and it wasn't his doctor either, because he had a visit a few weeks ago."

"Then who?"

He groaned. "Mason."

"Mason as in the Mason?"

He gave Rossi a look. "Like Mason is that common of a name?"

"Wow. What happened?"

"He told me how he left him with just a letter and felt like a jackass, and wanted to give him a proper apology, told me that he was going to take him out for coffee when we get back to give him a real explanation, considering we're on a case and he couldn't talk that long."

"And you were going to let him?"

"He's a grown man, I can't control what he does. If I told him no, he would've respected it, but he'd still feel incredibly guilty." He reached up, running a hand over his head. "And he apologized. Everything from the voicemails and then some."

"Was it sincere?"

"Yeah. He all but broke down in front of me, and said that he hoped that I had it in me to forgive him someday."

The two remained silent and Derek looked down at his feet, kicking the dirt. "You didn't tell me you went to visit him too."

"I didn't find it prudent. And besides, you two got some pretty good scotch, so I don't know why you're complaining."

He laughed slightly. "Well, we appreciated it. He told me he didn't make me the bad guy and took all the fault. Was he telling the truth?"

"He was. The kid told me everything was on him and that you weren't to blame at all. Anything else?"

"We talked for a while until Hotch called and told us to go to the house. While we were driving, I told him to stay behind me while I took the lead."

"You were still protective over him," Rossi observed.

He nodded. "Always have been, and probably always will be. Then everything happened and… I can't find it in me to be mad at him, because I'm just worried about him and want him to pull through."

"Knowing Reid? He will. Now come on, he'll be up soon, and I think he deserves better than a cup of crappy hospital coffee."

He smirked, nodding, following Rossi down the street.

While they were in the coffee shop, waiting for Spencer's order, Derek leaned against the window.

"Doing okay, otherwise?"

"As great as I can be," he admitted. "Do you think Hotch will let me see him?"

"I know Hotch knows better than to piss you off and keep you from him, so you'll probably be let in first, for everyone's health."

He laughed slightly. "I guess you're right."

After getting the coffee, Derek's phone started ringing. He handed the cup to Rossi, before taking out his phone and answering. "Yeah, Hotch?"

"You might want to get back here. His doctor just came in and said he's going to wake soon. I think he couldn't definitely use you there once he does wake up."

"We'll be right there." He hung up, and without a word, Rossi knew what the conversation was, turning and walking back to the hospital.

When they walked into the hospital, Derek went up to Hotch. "Where is he?"

"He's out of recovery and in his own room right now, coming off the anesthesia. He's down the hall in room 14."

He nodded, thanking him, before walking down the hall and into Spencer's room. He took the chair beside his bed and pulled it closer, sitting down and reaching out, lacing his fingers with Spencer's. Lifting the blanket, he took a quick look at the stitches, and visibly winced: there were twelve in his side to close up the wound, and he could only imagine the internal damage. He eyed the charts at the foot of the bed, before shaking it off – he knew Spencer wanted to be the first to see them, aside from his doctor and nurses. He tuned out the sound of the monitors he was hooked up to and watched his chest rise and fall. Exhaling, he squeezed Spencer's hand, assuring him he wasn't alone.

Spencer whimpered, wincing slightly and screwing his eyes shut. He was extremely tired and felt his body was numb. After blinking a few times, the room came into focus and he took a deep breath, sighing. He could make out someone sitting next to his bed and wondered which member of his team would be there for him.

"Feeling okay?"

He recognized the voice as Derek's and it took him a minute to remember how he got there. He recalled the unsub and panicked. "Are you okay?"

Derek laughed softly, smirking. "I'm fine, he didn't get me. Do you know what happened?"

He cleared his throat, sighing. "I got stabbed?"

"Do you remember anything else?"

He licked his lips. "I couldn't let you get hurt, Derek," he said softly. "I'd already hurt you enough and I couldn't let something happen." He tried to sit up, wincing. "And I wanted you to be safe, so I pushed him away. I'm sorry."

Derek squeezed his hand again and Spencer looked down, letting go of his hand.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked.

Spencer sighed, resting a hand on his side. "I don't deserve this."

"What-"

He shook his head, wincing. "After what I did, you shouldn't be here. You should be furious with me. You should hate me. You should want to be as far away from me as you can get. You-"

Derek sighed, putting a finger to his lips.

"Derek," he mumbled.

He cupped his hand over his mouth. "No."

"But Derek-"

"No."

Spencer groaned, pushing his hand off his mouth, pointing to the chart at the foot of his bed. Derek knew what this meant and grabbed it, handing it to him and sitting his bed up. Spencer looked through the chart, reading it.

"…What's the damage, doc?"

He smiled slightly. "The vests do a great job of covering our chest and back, but do nothing for the sides, apparently, aside from the Velcro straps to fasten it."

"I meant from the knife, genius."

"No major organs or arteries were hit, though they needed to do some internal stitches. Apparently, I'm lucky, because a few inches higher and he'd have hit a kidney. Twelve stitches to close the wound, and those are going to be unpleasant to deal with until they come out."

"At least you can cover them?" he suggested. "Some gauze and medical tape can work wonders."

Spencer paused. "…Do I smell coffee?"

Derek smirked. "You're like a bloodhound." He reached over, grabbing the cup from the nightstand and handing it to him. "Our little secret."

After taking a few sips, he handed the chart back to Derek and gripped the cup as the chart was put back.

"Derek?" he asked cautiously, biting his lip.

"Yeah, Pretty Boy?"

He smiled slightly at the nickname. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you talking about? I'm checking on you. Anyone who takes a knife for me deserves at least that."

He swallowed. "So you're going to take off again, and things will be like they have been?"

Derek sighed. "How miserable have you been this past week?"

"Completely," he admitted. "Like I told you, I didn't sleep, I didn't eat, I couldn't even get myself out of bed on my days off, sans the day that Rossi turned up. Add in the fact that we were tiptoeing around each other and speaking at each other, instead of to each other, when necessary? I just… I'm sorry. I know I've said it 137 times, but I am."

"You counted?"

"Mhm."

"This week wasn't easy on me either, Spencer. I thought everything was fine with us, and then you dropped that bomb on me that you'd cheated. Put yourself in my shoes, would you react the same as I did?"

He opened his mouth to argue, but nodded. "Exactly the same, actually. I don't know how you didn't punch me in the face for being such a jackass."

Derek smirked. "Because Baby Girl would've had my ass for hurting you, no matter what the situation."

Spencer couldn't tell if he was joking, but considering the smile, he took it as such. "How'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Ignore me."

Derek sighed. "It was really hard, at first. I couldn't really do it. Every time you called, I had to restrain myself from answering and talking to you. I wasn't ready to do it, because I was going to say something I really didn't mean. Then when I saw you at work, it was especially hard, because there was really no way to get away from you. It was safest for both of us to just stay quiet and away from each other, because you would've broken down, and I would've just stayed angry. Do you understand?"

Spencer nodded slightly, before letting Derek continue.

"In the back of my mind? I'm always going to remember this, and I think with good reason, I can always be upset about it. Our relationship was built on trust, and you threw that away for revenge." He sighed, clearing his throat. "I don't think you can ever fully comprehend how much that hurt, because no matter what I did with people at clubs, it always stayed there. I never took it anywhere else."

Spencer looked down at his lap, twirling the blanket in his finger. "Please tell me there's a 'but'," he said softly.

Derek saw the pain in his eyes and sighed. "But somebody who's willing to put their life on the line for me deserves some time to explain himself, and maybe even a second chance. Some people say 'once a cheater, always a cheater', but I don't think you'd have it in you to do it again."

Spencer quickly shook his head. "I don't."

"But you know how hard it is for me to trust people." Spencer nodded and Derek wrung his hands. "And that trust has to be earned. It's very safe to say you lost it, and you need to gain it back."

Spencer licked his lips, looking up at him. "I'd like to try, if you'd let me. I promise, I won't mess up again. Please, Derek."

He leaned over, wrapping an arm around Spencer, resting a hand on the back of his neck. "Promise?"

He nodded. "Promise," he confirmed.

Derek leaned in, kissing him softly. Spencer smiled appreciatively, returning the kiss. It was nothing overly passionate, but it was sweet, and exactly what he needed to confirm that he hadn't lost Derek forever.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against Derek's. "So you don't want me to transfer?"

"Not unless you're taking me with you."

Spencer bit down on his lip. "Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"I know you don't owe me anything, but, could you get me an ice pack for my side?"

"Sure, anything else?" he asked, getting up.

He shook his head. "You can tell the team I'm conscious?" he suggested. "I'm sure they'd appreciate the update."

"Probably." He patted Spencer's knee. "I'll be back in a minute."

He stuck the pillow behind his back. "I'll eagerly be awaiting your return."

Derek smirked, walking out to the nurses' station and requesting an ice pack. Meanwhile, he leaned against the desk, calling Hotch.

"Is he complaining?"

He laughed. "Not as much as I would be. I'm only out of there because he requested an ice pack for his stitches."

"How many?"

"Twelve in his side, but no significant damage. He read his charts to be sure of it."

Hotch shook his head. "Of course he did. Is he up for visitors?"

"I'm assuming so." He took the ice pack from the nurse and walked back to his room. "Has anyone informed Garcia yet?"

"JJ did, and apparently he's going to be getting a talking to once he gets back to work."

"I'm not surprised." He sat back down on his chair, pushing up Spencer's gown and resting the ice pack against his stitches. "Are you up for visitors?"

He winced at the cold, but nodded.

"You guys can stop by and give him a reaming."

"We'll be right there."

Derek hung up, putting the phone into his pocket and looking at Spencer. "Anything in that chart about when you can go home?"

"Tomorrow. Visiting hours are probably over soon-"

"And all we need to do is flash our badges to get right back in here. We're not leaving you alone."

Spencer was going to argue but sighed, leaning back.

There was a knock on the door and he looked at Derek, motioning toward it.

"Say no more." He walked over, opening the door, allowing the team to come in.

Spencer sat up, resting a hand on his side. JJ stepped toward the bed. "Come on, let me see the damage."

"What? No, JJ, it's disgusting."

"Spence, I'm an agent and I'm a mom. I've seen all sorts of disgusting. Let me see it."

He took his hand off the ice pack, moving it away and showing her his side.

She traced a finger over the stitches, wincing. "How are you feeling?"

"Other than the giant hole in my side? Fantastic."

She smiled, putting the ice pack on and adjusting his gown.

"How long are you stuck here?" Emily asked.

"Overnight, so they can keep an eye on me. Lost a lot of blood, infection concerns… same old same."

Rossi smirked, chuckling. "Anything I can get you, kid?"

"My go-bag from the hotel room, if you could grab it for me. And maybe Derek's?" he added, looking over at him.

Derek nodded, taking the room key out of his pocket and holding it out to Rossi.

Rossi smiled to himself, patting Spencer's leg. "Try to get some sleep tonight, kid."

He gave him a smile and nodded, watching as he walked out.

"Now that we know you're fine?" JJ said, looking at him.

"Hm?"

She reached up, hitting him upside the head.

"Ow!" he snapped, putting a hand where she'd hit him. "What was that for?!"

"One, for thinking Morgan couldn't handle the unsub on his own, and two, for getting yourself hurt on the job again. I don't know how many times I need to tell you, Spence, but I'm sick of having to buy hair dye because you insist on giving me gray hairs."

"Well one," he started, rubbing the side of his head, "Derek forgot the unsub had a knife and I probably saved his life, so you're welcome. And two, gray hairs have to do with your genetics, and it's not my fault, though if you'd like to blame me, feel free."

"I will." She ruffled his hair, sitting down next to him.

"I see Morgan provided you with your lifeline," Emily said, pointing to the coffee on the nightstand.

"That he did."

"So does this mean you two will stop acting like total jackasses to each other?"

"What?"

"I'm with Em on this one," JJ added. "I'm really sick of this soap opera."

"Make that three," Hotch said, raising his hand.

Spencer eyed Derek, who smirked, shaking his head.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Spencer defended.

"Let's see, there was Derek's very spiteful 'why don't you ask him?'."

"Add in Reid's disgusted 'that's not my problem'."

Hotch smiled. "And the awkward tension between the two of you the past week and a half."

"…Sometimes I hate working with profilers," he started, shifting slightly. "But yes, we're going to stop 'acting like total jackasses', as you so affectionately put it."

"Thank God. I don't know how much longer I'd have been able to take it without locking you two in a supply room together until you worked whatever this is out."

"You lock me in a supply room alone with him, JJ, and we'll come up with our own way to resolve it."

Hotch laughed while Emily and JJ both made a face. Spencer raised an eyebrow, looking between them. "What?"

"Nothing, Spence," JJ said, shaking her head and glaring at Derek.

When visiting hours were over, Rossi dropped off their go-bags and eyed Spencer.

"Everything okay?"

He looked in the hallway, where Derek had just left to get him some water. "I hope so."