Hi all! Still feeling perpetually shitty -even more so after just watching 'Angels'! - so I haven't been able to update. Hope you like this new chapter, I will really try to have another one up soon!
Spencer kept his head down and his eyes shut as Morgan wheeled him through the hospital corridors. In darkness, noise was an inescapable agony. The rumble of people and the incessant beeping of machines was too close. Stuck to his skin. He arched his hands, and clawed at his legs under the blanket. His heart raced, his stomach lurched, and he dug his nails in deeper with every sudden, painful peak.
Then there was silence.
Cold, and silence.
An unexpected chill against his bare arms, and silence.
And Spencer finally opened his eyes. Through strands of messy brown hair, they stung against white light. Even so, he had to see. It was so much brighter than her flashlight. Brighter than his watch. He tore his hands from his legs and reached up. With painful, watering eyes, Spencer was met with clear blue.
Spencer kept his eyes fixed on the sky and his arms outstretched. He remained static and unblinking until his friends knelt down on either side of him - and to JJ's horror - Morgan shook him out of his daze. He flinched and watched JJ's mouth move as she scolded Morgan. He watched her hair shine in the sunlight, and just when he was about to reach out and grasp it, he felt himself being lifted into the back-seat of the car.
"Spence, don't worry. We'll be home soon." JJ tried.
JJ's house wasn't wheelchair accessible, so Morgan parked as close to the front porch as he could get and carried Spencer inside. As they made their way up the stairs, Morgan refused to dwell on how weightless, freezing and confused Spencer was. Instead he focused on the fact that against all odds, Spencer was home. Now - at the very least - he was safe.
As he put Spencer down on JJ's sofa, Morgan offered a small and hopefully comforting smile. Spencer's eyes met his, and for a moment, the older profiler thought that Spencer was going to speak. But he wasn't ready. His eyes lingered for a moment, then he was gone again.
"We're home, Spencer."
JJ sat down next to Spencer, and Morgan took the sofa opposite. All three profilers sat in awkward silence, neither JJ nor Morgan knowing what to say, and Spencer still vacant.
"Spencer," Morgan said after a long time. "Do you know who took you?"
"Don't." JJ scolded, but Morgan persisted.
"We need your help to catch him."
"Morgan, not today. That's not fair."
Then Morgan was on the floor crouching in front of Spencer. His hand grasped the younger agents knee and he nudged him - perhaps a little too firmly, considering - as he tried to force communication.
Spencer shuddered and curled in on himself slightly. His chest started to feel tight again, he was getting too hot, his stomach really hurt.
"Reid! You need to listen!"
"Was it someone from the bureau?"
"Did you ever see what he looked like?
"Could you describe him?"
"Kid, where have you been?"
Spencer shut his eyes, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn't open them again. He squeezed his eyes tighter and tighter until pain began to radiate through his temple. Then he squeezed them tighter still. He felt his fists joining in, nails digging in to his palms and no doubt drawing blood. He clenched his teeth, his legs cramped, his whole body stiffened. He was lost in painful blackness, unable to stop any of it.
"Stop!" JJ called for what felt like the hundredth time and glared at Morgan, equal parts enraged and disappointed. Spencer was weak, but Morgan's temper didn't care. She turned to Spencer, who was quite clearly distressed, and then back to Morgan.
"God, Derek." She sneered. "Just go smash another hole in the wall."
Morgan took in Spencer and his face softened. He moved back to the sofa and more than a little guilty, watched JJ try to work out what was wrong with their youngest.
JJ rubbed circles into Spencer's back, shooting aggravated looks Morgan's way. Now the yelling had stopped, Spencer had relaxed considerably. After a few minutes, his eyes - now red and sore - opened up, and he looked to JJ.
Kid, where have you been?
Kid, where have you been?
Kid, where have you been?
Where?
June 18th, 2007.
From the pain he was in, Spencer knew he had been in some kind of accident. He opened his eyes expecting to be comforted by the familiar faces of his team as they blurred and swirled together above him, telling him it probably felt worse that it was and everything was going to be okay. He expected the noise of ambulance sirens and the stuffy closeness of emergency personnel as they poked and prodded him; asked him his name, his age and who the current president was. But Spencer was met with nothing but darkness. Emptiness. Silence.
Disoriented, he found his head had fallen to his left side. His eyes could make out the wood panelling and the barbed wire that created a wall, but that was it. If his eyes would clear, and the thumping in his head would dull, he might fare a little better in assessing his surroundings. But without thinking, without being cautious enough to consider that someone could be watching him, Spencer lifted his head and looking up to the ceiling. Up to more long, poorly constructed panels that locked him in, and the rest of the world out.
As Spencer looked around, he soon realized none of his friends were with him. Ambulance sirens blurred with the ringing in his ears. Then he started to get scared. He couldn't remember being hurt. He couldn't remember the last thing that happened.
I was at home.
No the office.
No I...
Then the possibility of drugs flooded in. He forced them aside, and told himself amnesia was perfectly normal after an accident.
Spencer went to sit up, hoping to find something that could give him a clue to his current whereabouts, but made the mistake of moving his left arm. White hot pain shot up his arm and radiated through his body. It was dislocated. Immediately he was taken back to his fifth birthday, his father pushing him and his new bike across the grass and right into the family's Ford. Spencer bit down on his lip to stop himself from crying out.
Then he froze.
At the warm, tickling sensation at the bottom of his feet.
It took great effort to sit up. Careful to mind his arm, Spencer managed on his fourth attempt. As his vision settled, he saw that thankfully, it wasn't a dog or any other creature caressing him, but a woman.
She was maybe a little older than him. Emaciated. Dressed in absolute rags and licking the sole of his bare foot. Spencer hesitated, then accepted that there was no way he was going to apply logic to his situation or begin to comprehend what was happening, when he was in such a weakened state.
It was the woman whose eyes shot up and found him. Mad eyes. Tongue still poking out. As if all the shock hit him at once, Spencer jumped and cried out - then realized he was restrained by his neck.
Despite the pain, his arms frantically felt around and discovered the metal chain that attached him to the wall, and the three-inch cuff around his throat. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. Unbalancing, he fell back and rolled on to his side, right on to his dislocated arm. Spencer's breath caught again, and he was suffocating.
"Relax." He heard. A voice that was far too calm. "You can breathe just fine."
Spencer continued to splutter and gag, and pull at the cuff around his neck.
"You're just panicking." The woman didn't bother to look up.
As soon as Spencer realized she was indeed right, his distress lessened and he lay gasping for oxygen on the ground. He felt something prick his face, and noticed he was laying on hay.
As Spencer recovered, the woman went back to licking his foot like it was the most normal thing in the world.
"What are you doing?" He asked at last.
"Cleaning you up."
Spencer was far to numb to say or do anything when she started up his leg, then moved to his face.
She seemed to finish. Her face was close to his, and she viewed her company carefully.
"What's your name?" Her voice was far gentler than before.
Spencer knew it wasn't wise to give her his real name. For all he knew, she could be the one responsible for his injuries. He whispered the first name that came into his head.
"Aaron."
He cursed himself.
"S." He added stupidly. "Sam Aarons."
"Well, Sam Aarons." She said, blood dripping from her mouth. "I'm Amy."
Amy lay an awkward hand on Spencer's good shoulder, then pat him three times. Spencer assumed she was trying to comfort him, but he didn't want contact, he wanted to know where the hell he was.
"Where...?" Spencer managed.
No answer, a shake of the head.
"Who... why?"
Spencer grew more agitated when the woman continued to dismiss his questions.
"Don't worry, Sam." She offered instead, beginning to stroke his hair in the same awkward manner. Spencer thought she was going to reveal something, but when she saw his arm, her demeanour changed again.
"I need to fix your arm." She said bluntly. Mechanically.
Spencer barely had time to process what she had said before, in one swift motion, Amy had seized his arm and pulled down hard. White, hot pain sent him back into unconsciousness.
Hope you liked it, please leave a review - they reall make my day :)
Next chapter - Spencer gets settled with JJ, but JJ worries she might have taken on more than she can handle.