Chapter 20

Spencer's POV:

As I sat in the overtly uncomfortable plastic hospital chairs I couldn't get Avery's face, contorted in pain out of my thoughts. And her clear voice, filled with rage and betrayal echoed in my mind's eye over and over again "I can't believe you went along with this Spencer". The purity of the hurt that had radiated off of her in that moment, was metaphorically killing me. Perhaps more than metaphorically; my mind was clearly self-destructing, and if my fingernails were any indication the devastating nature of this situation was beginning to take its physical toll. To explain the feelings of torment on my brain, I'd liken my mental and physical state to that of a fresh pile of disgusting canine feces.

I felt like dog shit.

As I examined the bloody, torn skin of my fingertips I reflected on one of the many troubles flying around in my head. How could I have gone along with Hotch's orders? Theoretically I could argue that it was because he was my leader, disobeying a direct order from him would be insubordinate and he would be totally within his rights to suspend or even terminate me from the team. However, that outcome seemed highly unlikely, even for a hypothetical situation. Hotch wasn't an over controlling it vengeful man, and realistically he should never have furthered his involvement in the case after he found out who the next target was. I could also blame the fact that in this case, the letters wouldn't have had a positive impact on Avery as far as her case was concerned. It would've only scared her, and given how slowly her case was moving maybe it has been better for her to have been able to live this last month as her wonderfully happy, passionate self rather than the alternative?

In my heart of hearts I knew that was Hotch's reason for this plan, but it wasn't mine. To be perfectly honest, I'd never been comfortable with this deception. I'd purposefully avoided contact with Avery since her party for that very reason; I sincerely did not think I could've lied to her face about anything, nor could I have willingly held a conversation knowing I was keeping something so imperatively important from her.

I held my head in my hands and shook my head, as if that would erase my thoughts like an etch-a-sketch and ease my tormented psyche. However, no matter how guilty I felt about the way that I and my team had handled the situation or how immensely remorseful I felt, the fact still remained that Avery would still be hurt when she awoke. She'd still feel disillusioned and blindsided by the sudden betrayal of the people she trusted most in the world. And the thought of her: beautiful, sweet, kindly her, hurting like that was what was truly wounding me slowly and painstakingly. On one level, I couldn't be more impatient for her to awake, to see her crystal clear blue eyes flutter open; knowing that she indeed was as healthy as the doctors claimed would be like Christmas and Birthday gifts for a whole decade. But, on another, very real level I was terrified for her to become conscious; to see the hurt in her eyes, and feel her sadness radiating off of her tragically beautiful features would do much more than wound me.

It would kill me.

Avery's POV:

Red.

That's all I could muster in the pounding, pulsating, blinding pain that was my body. The color red resonated in my whole consciousness in a way I didn't understand as I struggled to break free from the waves of exhaustion that were pulling me back into a numb, unconscious safety.

My father had always taught me that if I ever tell and hurt myself that I should wait to move until I had completely figured out what was hurt, for fear of hurting myself worse by panicking. While I was completely confused about where I was, or why I couldn't seem to open my eyes, his advice seemed to be echoing in my ears, comforting and instructing me. I slowly began to feel each one of my body parts in turn to see what was happening. My toes and legs felt fine, as did my hips and bottom. My arms felt sore, but nothing unbearable; they felt as if I had done too much lifting at the gym, and my muscles were reminding me what my physical limits were. I'd never been good at listening to what my body expected of me. I surveyed my torso, and found a dull stabbing pain in my right side that confused me. I also felt, of course, that my head was currently experiencing the worst migraine of my existence, but noted that my neck felt just fine. All in all I felt okay.

Deciding to try my hardest to open my eyes before trying to move, I fought against the waves and fluttered them open. I blinked against the sudden brightness of the room, and slowly took in my surroundings. The lights were bright fluorescents, which did nothing but brighten the stark, white walls that surrounded me. I noted that I was on a bed, and that there were several tubes coming out of my hands. My heart dropped.

I was in a hospital.

Frantically, I racked my brain to understand why I was in here. The last thing I remembered was going outside with my daycare kids and watching them play on the...

Slide. Peyton fell off the slide, and I'd caught her. I began to panic; had I caught her? Where was she? If I were in a hospital, then was she hurt too? How exactly had I hurt myself? Breathing harshly, I turned my head around a few times looking for someone, anyone to help me. Finding that this small movement cause the pounding in my head to get much worse, I cringed and began to lose control of my breathing completely. I felt panicked, trapped, and in pain. But as my eyes locked on the man sound asleep in the chair, I regained some composure and started to calm down.

Spencer was here.

Slumped over the small hospital chair with dark circles under his eyes and (slightly) puffy eyelids I could only assume he was feeling about as much like dog shit as I was. My heart reached out to his poor self; hoping once he awoke I could cheer him from whatever was making him so sad. Surely he couldn't just be worried about me? Maybe it was self-centered to assume that he must be upset over me, but if that wasn't it then what was making him so miserable looking? I racked my brain for what felt like the millionth time today; what had been doing before work? Had I seen Spencer at all, and if I did why didn't he tell me if he was having a hard time.

The memories of yesterday came to me slowly, like they were lifting out of the fog that was my mind. (Judging by the IV standing next to my bed I was on some serious painkillers). As I slowly recalled my trip to see the team, my jaw set in a hard line and I felt my hands ball into fists. Fuck Spencer, fuck the whole damn team. They lied to me.

"Hey mama", I heard a quiet voice from the side of my bed. Remembering how much it'd hurt when I'd turned to face Spencer, I slowly faced the voice. Finding it to be Morgan, I just stared at him for a while. Firstly, because I didn't trust my voice currently, and secondly because I was just as hurt to see him as I was to see Spencer. He, Spencer, Arrow, the whole team had hurt me and I hadn't really processed through any of it; but I could definitely tell that right now I was pissed.

Sensing this, Derek put that stupid look of fucking compassion on his face. Ordinarily, I would've appreciated his efforts to understand my feelings, but right now his expression made me want to knock it off of his face and leave the feelings to me.

"How are you feeling?", he asked softly. I furrowed my brow.

"Physically or mentally?", I asked evenly, daring him to ask. He didn't even blink before answering.

"Both", he said plainly. I took a deep breath in, before hunching over in pain because that one simple action made my ribcage stab me with one of the strongest pains that I'd ever experienced. While I was doubled over, I felt Morgan come to my side and grab my hand.

"Avery, are you okay? Should I get someone?" he asked hurriedly, I didn't need to look up to tell that his condescending compassionate face was gone. I kept his hand, and looked up at him with my jaw set. He backed up slightly.

"No I'm not alright", I said harshly. He opened his mouth to speak, so I continued before he could trivialize my feelings, like I was certain that he would. "I feel like you guys took all the trust I gave you, and tossed in in the garbage, all crumpled up. Do you understand how hard it is for me to give trust to ANYONE? At all? Everyone that I've ever cared about has left me. I've been alone for virtually my entire life, and when all you have to rely on is yourself, trusting other people seems pointless and dangerous. But I fell in love with all of you, so fast; I thought you could be my family. You gave me hope that for once I could have a family made up of someone other than my kids, but now I'm not sure. I'm so hurt, and I'm confused and if you give me that fucking empathetic look one more time I swear to God I'll smack it right off Derek". He shot me a painful expression.

"Avery, you have every right to be angry with me, and with the team. And believe me when I say that we are all so sorry that we hurt you so badly. But mama sometimes even families mess up", he said, sitting down and taking my one hand in both of his. I pulled my hand out of his grasp. I heard Spencer stir on my other side, and I pointedly looked straight ahead.

"Yeah, maybe they do. But that doesn't mean you can always forgive them", I said softly.

Author's Note: Hey all! I was so happy to know that even though I was away for so long that there are still readers who follow this. That's awesome! Keep it up, keep up the reviews. I know this chapter was a little heavy, but I swear the story is going to head in a more positive direction soon! Read and Review pu-leez! J