Spencer stood slowly, walking to Emily's dresser and retrieving a tank top and shorts from the middle drawer. The pale brunette kept her head in her hands, his words looping through her head on repeat. Fabric hitting her lap forced her to remove her hands as she stared down at the material in her lap. Swallowing hard, her fingers tentatively lifted the red tank top, fumbling anxiously with the garment. The bed beside her shifted as he sank down, eyeing her cautiously.
"Why, Emily?" he questioned, fingertips grazing her knee softly. Without answering, she slipped out of the bed and moved towards the long mirror in the corner of her room, fabric in hand. Swallowing hard, she fingered the base of her turtleneck, locking eyes with Reid's reflection.
"D-do you want me to step out? I don't want t-to make you uncomfortable." he stood quickly, his awkward body scurrying towards the hallway.
"Stay." It was barely even a whisper, but he stopped in his tracks, waiting anxiously for some further indication from his friend. He saw tears floating in her eyes, wide with panic, begging for something, though he wasn't sure what.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, moving to stand behind her, his hand on her arm, eyeing her in the reflection.
"I'm thinking..." Pausing, she took a deep breath, "I'm thinking everything in my brain is screaming for me to climb back into bed, to pretend we never had this conversation."
The pain in her expression hurt him, though he had no idea how to even begin to help her. Slowly, her hands began to slide the shirt up, but her eyes remained with his. Spencer wasn't sure what to do, how to support his friend without making her uncomfortable, but he stayed still, one hand gently resting on her hip. Prentiss moved the black fabric over her head and let it fall to the floor. Dragging her eyes from his, the pale woman stared at her reflection, the familiar anxiety and anger rumbling in her stomach. Eyes closing briefly, her hand found his on her hip.
"Emily?"
"It feels wrong." she whispered, eyes floating from one wound to the next. Slowly, Spencer allowed his eyes to leave her face, looking down to see what she was mentioning. Across her collarbone, a long angry red gash cut across her pale skin, the end of which disappeared beneath the black bra she wore. A similar wound cut across vertically down her muscled abdomen, stretching from beneath the bra to disappear beneath the waistband of her sweatpants. Slowly, his hands moved to her shoulders, fingertips ghosting along both arms, tracing fresh scars beginning there and stretching to just above her wrists, where pink injuries encircled both wrists. Small white scars were scattered across her form, healed bullet wounds and other occupational injuries she'd accumulated since joining the Bureau.
"It's not wrong." He finally spoke, his eyes returning to meet hers in the mirror. Groaning at the tension in her shoulders, Emily raised her arms to slip the red tank top over her head.
"Let me help you." he murmured, helping ease the snug material over her. The back of his hand brushed against another fresh scar on her back, and again on her side, just above the waistband of her sweatpants. Emily stared at her own reflection, silent. His presence comforted her, fought against the self-hatred that threatened to overtake her. Carefully, she leaned back slightly, resting against his lanky chest.
"M-May I?" he asked, his hands going to the waistband of her sweatpants. She nodded, setting her jaw. Her eyes looked to the ceiling as he carefully slid the material down her long legs, his arm gingerly wrapping around her waist to help balance her as she stepped out of them. The scarring continued on her legs, a few smaller red gashes across her thighs. A particularly nasty gash twisting from beneath her black underwear, twisting from the top of her thigh to disappear between her legs. Sighing, Spencer led her back to her bed, and nodded for her to sit, lifting the black shorts from her hands and kneeling to slide them on.
"You don't have to, Reid. I'm fully capable of dressing myself." She was uncomfortable.
"E-Everytime y-you move it hurts. You try to hide it, but it does. If you want me to stop, I will. Of course I will. B-But I just thought it'd be quicker and less painful this way..." he stammered, his anxiety flaring. Frowning, Emily nodded her consent. It made her uncomfortable, but his intentions were kind. He guided her shorts up her legs until they were in her reach, when she took over and pulled them the rest of the way.
She felt surprisingly calm as she looked down at the scars forming on her legs. He hadn't reacted in the way she'd expected, which shouldn't have surprised her. Since when does Reid react to anything normally? He'd acknowledged the changes in her body, but hadn't flinched away. He hadn't made her feel like some broken fucked up victim. And he hadn't sexualized her. He was the first man to see her partially undressed who hadn't even noticed her. All those questions swirled through her head, distracting from the racing self-deprecation that permanently occupied the back of her mind.
"What are you thinking?" his voice beside her pulled her from her thoughts.
"I, uh - nothing." her fingers ghosted across her own leg, testing the newly exposed flesh. "I'm just tired."
He glanced up at the clock. 4am. Spencer nodded, moving back to his place in her bed and watching as she followed, slowly lowering herself beside him, curling up against his side. The heat radiating from his body was soothing now, less smothering. She smiled against his arm, wrapping her arm around him. Turning to his side, Spencer laid his arm over her, his hand smoothing her hair gently, encouraging her into sleep.
Emily yawned, carefully stretching her aching body as she slipped back into consciousness. Realizing she was alone, she sat upright, panic spreading through her.
"Spencer?" she yelled, forcing herself to her feet. Her hand clutched her stomach as she moved through her apartment, becoming more and more upset. "Spencer?!"
"I'm here. Right here." he rushed up the stairs, taking them two at a time, meeting her atop the stairs. "It's okay. I'm right here."
His arms wrapped around her and she buried her face in his chest.
"Don't scare me like that." she murmured, her hands resting on his skinny hips. He nodded against the top of her head, his hand stroking the back of her head gently. "Where'd you go?"
"I, uh- I wasn't feeling well. I didn't want to wake you..." he mumbled, keeping her pressed against him. His words started to sink in as she lifted her face to look up at him. He looked bad. The dark circles under his eyes had expanded and he looked exhausted. She wondered if he'd slept at all. His messy hair was slicked back, sweat coating his face and neck, all colour having left his skin. He shook beneath her, nearly vibrating.
"It's getting bad..." her voice was soft, kind, as her hand rested against his clammy cheek.
"'s not that bad..." his brown eyes avoided hers, though he kept his arms around her.
"Is it making you sick yet?" her dark eyes searched his face for answers, guilt rushing through her. He'd been there for her all night, meanwhile his body had begun to breakdown. He nodded. Sighing, Emily squeezed his arms gently and moved away, first to the thermostat to lower the temperature for him, and then down the stairs, moving slowly to avoid increasing her pain levels. He trailed behind her quietly.
"Have you slept?" she asked him as she lifted a blanket from the back of her couch, pulling it around her exposed shoulders. He shook his head as his eyebrow raised, challenging the motive behind her action.
"Just cold." she offered a smile as she settled onto the couch, patting the cushion beside her. The shaky man sank down, allowing her to guide his head onto her lap. She didn't say anything, just sat with him, her icy hands moving across his chest, soothing his searing skin.
"Doesn't it hurt?" he asked, looking up at her.
"It's not so bad." she offered a reassuring smile.
"Here..." Spencer raised himself enough to guide her legs onto the couch, one on either side of his slim body, as he settled against her and rested his head against her abdomen, positioning it to the side of where he knew the injury was. She smiled a silent thanks, and continued her prior movements, her other hand playing gently with his hair. Before long, he finally collapsed into sleep, his shaking subsiding slightly.
He looked so small. It tugged at her heart to see him this way. He didn't deserve this. He wasn't as innocent as the rest of their team treated him, there was no doubt there. But he was Spencer. The kind man who went out of his way to make her smile, who'd kept himself awake for 72 hours, refusing to let her stay in her hell for a single second longer. Who'd seen through her guard and comforted her through the night. Pulling the blanket tighter around herself, she smiled softly down at him. Emily settled against the arm of her couch and yawned, feeling herself following him into sleep.