01/08/2017. St Andrew's Hospital, Virginia. 11:24 hours.

Spencer was grateful to finally shed the uncomfortable, scratchy hospital gown. He was seated at the wash basin in the unit's bathroom. He stared into his own reflection and barely recognised himself. The bruising on his face had become more of a yellow/green colour. He eased up his aching left arm and traced his fingertips over the bruising. Multiple thin white scars littered his face. He had a beard. His right hand brushed over the fading bruising to his ribs. Spencer smothered his jaw in shaving foam. A hand thrust a safety razor into Spencer's hand. Spencer turned his head to look at the male nurse stood beside him.

"You're going to watch me?" asked Spencer nervously.

"Protocol, Dr Reid." Spencer's mouth straightened into a thin line as he turned back to the mirror and began to scrape away weeks of hair growth. His brown curls hung limply over his shoulders, water trailing over his skin. He at least felt clean again.

"You'll be ready to go home, are you?" asked the nurse, as he tried to break the awkward tension.

"Uh-huh," responded Spencer, head tilted back as he carefully dragged the razor over the sharp edge of his jawbone towards the bruising on his neck.

"You got a lovely lady back home waiting for you? Perhaps that colourful, blonde lady?" Spencer hissed as the razor nicked his skin. He swirled the razor in the foamy water.

"That colourful, blonde lady is my colleague. I'm staying with her for a while as I live alone." The nurse simply nodded in response, sensing that Spencer was not in the mood for conversing.

01/08/2017. St Andrew's Hospital, Virginia. 13:08 hours.

Derek slowly made his way towards the unit, two take out cups of Starbucks coffee in either hand. He flashed a wide toothy grin to a passing nurse who blushed and sped up. Derek felt a pang of anxiety in his chest though he easily pushed it down to the depths of his stomach. His wrist psychosomatically began to ache, reminding him of the confrontation they had when he last visited Spencer. He pushed open the door to the unit with his hip and sidled inside. As he approached Spencer's room, he noticed the door was open. Spencer was sat up on the bed, his long legs dangling over the side. He was carefully guiding a navy chequered button down shirt over his injured arm. Derek noted how the younger man winced in pain.

"You need some help there, pretty boy?" Spencer glanced up, shirt only covering one arm. His hair hung over his face. Embarrassment and shame collided in his brain, causing his cheeks to burn crimson.

"Morgan?"

"That's my name, don't wear it out," chuckled Derek as he set the cups down on the table, "So, do you need some help?"

"Please. My shoulder isn't quite strong enough yet." Derek eased the shirt around Spencer's shoulders and over the other arm. He knelt down in front of Spencer and began buttoning the shirt. Spencer tightly grasped the bed frame. His toes brushed against the floor.

"How're you feeling, kid? You look like you've lost some weight."

"I'm getting there. I'm going to be in a wheelchair for a few more weeks until my shoulder is stronger seeing as how I can't use crutches." Derek spotted the colourful mismatched socks tucked into a pair of emerald green slippers that would not look out of place in a grandfather's wardrobe. Derek shook his head and let out a laugh as he took a sock into both hands and stretched it open, sliding it carefully over the bandages around Spencer's left foot.

"Derek?" came a small voice. Derek looked up at Spencer, the sock partially covering his heel. Spencer was visibly trembling as he brushed his hair back out of his face.

"Yeah, kid?"

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Everything. For not coming to see Hank. For hurting you." Derek sat back on his heels, his hands on his thighs and let out a long sigh.

"You don't have to apologise for anything, Reid. I know why you haven't seen Hank yet and that's not your fault. You were... Um..."

"In prison."

"Yeah. You didn't hurt me. You just took me by surprise is all." Spencer watched as Derek unconsciously cradled his wrist.

"Please don't lie to me, Derek."

"Okay, so it hurt a little. It's no biggie though. I was scared though. It's just, I've never seen you like that before."

"Milburn turned me into something I'm not. If I could take it all back, I would."

"I get that. Really, I do. You gotta let me in, kid." Derek reached forward and tugged the green and white striped sock up. Spencer lifted his right foot to allow Derek to put on the other sock as he wrestled his arm back into the sling. Once Spencer's feet were covered, Derek eased himself to his feet, using the bed for support.

"You're getting old," snorted Spencer, a coy smile dancing on his lips. Derek raised his eyebrows.

"Oh! You did not just say that, pretty boy!" Derek hooked one arm around Spencer's waist, and the other under his knees.

"Derek! Morgan! What are you-? Oh, my gosh! No!" Derek scooped the genius up into a bridal carry. Spencer latched on to Derek's grey t-shirt tightly. Derek turned and dropped the younger man into the waiting wheelchair, eliciting a gasp from Spencer.

"Let's put your grandad slippers on, Reid. My baby girl will be here soon to take you home." Spencer pouted.

"They are not grandad slippers! They're memory foam!"

"Whatever you say," laughed Derek, "You need some serious fattening up. Just wait until Garcia gets her hands on you." Spencer groaned outwardly.

"I can barely stomach food right now! The thought of cupcakes and cookies makes me feel nauseous," whined Spencer. Derek grabbed the arms of the wheelchair and leaned in close. Spencer drew back as far as he could, his hazel eyes fixed on the dark skinned man before him.

"Well, then. You best get over it." Derek's face broke into a wide grin, his almost black eyes sparkling. Spencer gulped as the cup of coffee was thrust into his hand.