Chapter Twenty

10/07/2019. 13:54 hours. David Rossi's House, Virginia.

"I look ridiculous!" came a groan of despair from the spare bedroom. David smirked to himself as he casually sipped his freshly brewed coffee. It was a well deserved beverage after helping Spencer to shower. If it had not been so early in the day, he would have had a good stiff Scotch instead. It turned out that Spencer was much more stubborn than he thought. It had been a battle of wills as David held the genius' head still from the front as Spencer raked at his scalp with the shampoo. David had ended up just as soaked as Spencer by the end. Once Spencer had dried himself off, David put the cervical collar back on him and went to his own room to dry off and change his clothes, leaving Spencer to dress himself. The sound of breaking glass was alarming. David set his mug down on the coffee table, his eyes still drawn to the place that had Matt's credentials and gun in a pile in the centre. He came to his feet and made his way over to the spare room. He knocked lightly on the dark wooden door with the second knuckle of his trigger finger.

"Spencer? Are you okay?" asked David, a frown knitting his brows.

"Yeah, uh… I could use some help." David slowly opened the door to find Spencer clasping a towel over his left hand and a broken glass tumbler on the hardwood floor. Spencer turned fully to look at David, the brace preventing him from moving his head. David's eyes widened.

"What happened, kiddo?" Spencer dropped heavily onto the side of the bed., his head bowed in shame.

"I tried to pick up the glass to get a drink. I got shooting pain through my arm and I lost my grip on it. I tried to pick it up and cut my hand." David smiled softly at him.

"Don't worry. I'll help you get cleaned up." David stepped into the en suite bathroom and retrieved the first aid kit. With the green box in hand, David knelt down in front of the young man. He took a moment to absorb Spencer's appearance.

A small, thin scar snaked through Spencer's bottom lip and another across his eyebrow. The bruising had all but faded on his face. A swath of bandages was visible beneath the cuffs of the dark red button up shirt he wore, the first three buttons undone to accommodate the collar. His long curls had been swept back out of his face. Spencer pursed his lips in frustration. The stubble on his jaw gave him a rugged appearance. He had always been a clean shaven man until prison, and then his exterior looked as rough and hardened as his core. David pressed some gauze to the neck of the bottle of antiseptic in his left hand and inverted the bottle, soaking the gauze with the harsh smelling liquid. Spencer wrinkled his nose and relinquished his hold on the towel.

"This is going to sting, Spencer." David pulled the towel away to reveal Spencer's palm coated in blood. He glanced up at Spencer who clamped his front teeth down over his bottom lip and gave a thumbs up. David cleaned the blood away as gently as possible with Spencer stifling his groans of pain. The cut on Spencer's palm was not particularly long, but was jagged. David grabbed the tweezers and carefully plucked the shards of glass out of the wound. Spencer's grip tightened around the wrist of his newly injured hand to steady the trembling.

"Sorry, caro. It doesn't look too deep, so you might not need any stitches."

"There are many blood vessels in the hand including radial and ulnar arteries, superficial and deep palmar arches, digital arteries, dorsal metacarpal arteries and the princeps pollicis artery, so it's to be expected that the hand bleeds so much when trauma occurs. The fact that there are many blood vessels and connections between them prevents major problems if a major artery is cut. However, if both main arteries are cut, the hand can die within four to six hours." David quirked an eyebrow at him.

"You don't say?" Spencer raised his eyebrows at him.

"Oh, I'm merely pointing out that it's understandable that there is so much blood when you cut your hand. If I had arterial bleeding, it would be spurting out and I wouldn't be conscious to tell you this." Spencer smirked slightly at the older man. "The hand itself is a complex network of bones, tendons, ligaments, blood vessels, muscles and nerves. One wrong move could render a hand completely useless. Thankfully, advancements in medicine have made it so that -"

"Reid! Don't make me gag you." Spencer stared seriously at David for a moment, scaring the senior agent into thinking he had said the wrong thing, before a grin broke across his face and he burst out laughing. David narrowed his eyes before muttering, "little shit" under his breath as he pressed a dressing pad into the palm of Spencer's hand and wound a bandage around it to hold it in place. Spencer gave him a playful shove, sending him tumbling onto his backside.

"Oh, you're in for it now, kid! Just wait until you get back!"

Spencer pushed up to his feet and admired David's handiwork. He reached out a hand and helped David up to his feet. He grabbed his blazer that was draped over the end of the neatly made bed and shouldered it. David handed him his wooden cane, the handle shaped like a bird's head. He had not seen the cane since Spencer had been shot in the knee many moons before. Spencer pushed against the bed to his feet and held his cane in his right hand. David rested a hand on Spencer's shoulder and gave him a proud smile.

"You look good, bambino." Spencer beamed shyly, his cheeks flushing crimson. "Come on, let's get you to your coffee date."

10/07/2019. 14:34 hours. Mama May's Coffee Shop , Quantico, Virginia.

Spencer relished the familiar warmth of his favourite coffee shop as he shouldered the door open with his weaker arm and stepped inside. The beautiful, bitter smell of freshly brewed coffee and ground coffee beans tickled his nostrils. He stopped just inside the doorway and breathed in the heavenly scent. He had missed visiting the coffee shop so much. Mama May herself was working, her grey hair pulled back into a tight bun, her kind eyes wrinkled. Mama May made some of the finest muffins in different flavours. Spencer's favourite was her raspberry and white chocolate muffins. The sweetness of the white chocolate counteracted the bitterness of the raspberries into an explosion of flavour in his mouth. He had told Mel that she needed to try the muffins. Spencer stepped up to the counter and his eyes met Mama May's twinkling gaze.

"Dr Reid! It's been a while! What happened?" asked Mama May, her eyes inspecting the young man from behind her round glasses.

"It's a very long story, Mama May. But I'll be okay." Mama May nodded, her eyes scrutinising him as though she was unsure whether or not to believe him.

"Mmhm. What can I get for you today?"

"Could I get two double shot vanilla soy lattes and two of your amazing white chocolate raspberry muffins, please?"

"A little hungry and in need of a caffeine fix?" laughed Mama May.

"Oh, no. I have a date."

"You're having a date? Here?" Mama May raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"Yes, ma'am. A wonderful girl needs to experience your wonderful muffins." Mama May blushed as she set about brewing the coffee.

"Pfft. You flatter me, Dr Reid. Take a seat and I'll bring them over."

"Thank you." Spencer offered her a wide smile and stumbled over to a vacant table near the window. He eased himself down into the plush armchair facing the door and rested his cane against the glass, hooking the handle on the table. He poked a finger through a hole in the collar and scratched gently at his neck. He watched the world pass by the window with a smile on his face. He had faced so much death in recent weeks and had spent most of it imprisoned in one way or another, so he had not been able to experience the outside world. It filled him with warmth and a sense of longing. For all his job forced him into unimaginable horrors, Spencer often saw the good in everything. He believed he could save everyone. Yet, he had been unable to save himself from his own mind. He found himself in psychiatric care, subjected to a treatment that had its merits but truly terrified him. He had been determined to end it all, seeing no way to recover from all of the trauma he had endured over the years. David had set him up with Dr Martin Dove, a psychotherapist specialising in complex post traumatic stress disorder, to help him break down the trauma he had been through and make sense of it using eye movement desensitisation reprogramming. It was a treatment that the BAU had used successfully many times with victims to break through trauma to unlock memories that had long been suppressed.

The bell above the door jingled, snapping Spencer out of his thoughts. He averted his attention to the door to see Mel step inside and look around with a fond smile on her face. Her pink hair tumbled in waves over one shoulder, a patch above her left ear braided close to her scalp. Thick black eyeliner adorned her green eyes, flicking out at the corners. She wore a deep purple lipstick. A black leather biker jacket hung over a black tan top that accentuated her figure and black jeans with rips in the knees. Spencer felt his heart race as she noticed him and beamed at him. Spencer clumsily came to his feet and moved around to the opposite side of the table to pull out the chair, his left foot dragging slightly. Mel blushed and sat down in the chair, giving a giggle as Spencer pushed the chair into the table and sat himself back down. She shrugged her jacket off and draped it over the back of her chair. Spencer was unable to stop himself from admiring the intricate tattoo of flowers and butterflies on her upper right left arm.

"Uhm… Hi," said Spencer shyly.

"Hi to you. This place is awesome. So cozy." Spencer raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, it's my favourite. Mama May makes some of the best muffins in town. I like to come here to read sometimes." Mel leaned forward on the table with interest.

"Oh, yeah? What do you like to read?"

"Everything. I have a real fondness for fifteenth century literature. My mom used to be a fifteenth century literature professor, so I kind of grew up with it. Do you like to read?"

"I love a good fantasy or science fiction novel. I like to get lost in a fictional world." Spencer's eyes twinkled, fixated on Mel's lips as they moved. He was brought out of his reverie by a tray being set down on the table in front of them. Mama May gave him a wink before stalking away. Spencer winced as he lifted his left arm to push a muffin towards Mel.

"Are you okay?" asked Mel, her voice filled with concern. Spencer's mouth gaped and he drew his arm back.

"Oh, yeah. I'm okay." Spencer was unsure of who he was trying to reassure- himself or Mel.

"What happened?" Spencer was taken aback by the question. He knew that Mel understood everything that occurred in the prison and his attempt to end his life. He swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the muffin in front of him.

"It turned out the director of the FBI was the father of Warden Michaels and had orchestrated the whole thing. He came after me after I was released from hospital. I was staying with Rossi and under guard from one of my teammates. He got in whilst Matt was answering a call and held me at gunpoint. He made Matt restrain me in a straitjacket, tie me to a chair and gag me. He then knocked Matt out and cuffed him. We were in silence for what felt like hours before he cut me loose from the chair and took me into the garden. He had made a noose around a tree branch and put a chair underneath it. He made me get on the chair, put the noose around my neck, tied my ankles and blindfolded me. My team got to me in time and shot the director. He, uh, fell against the chair I was on and knocked it out from under me. Matt managed to get to me in time before the rope killed me. I have a small fracture to my C2 vertebra and an inflamed disc. The swelling is affecting the nerves on my left side so I get random shooting pains, numbness, tingling and weakness." Spencer glanced up, afraid that the silence had meant that Mel had left. She had her hand curled under her chin, her attention fully on him, and hanging on to his every word.

"You're a truly remarkable man, Spencer Reid."

"How so?" Spencer forced a finger into the collar and scratched his neck again. His skin was damp with sweat.

"You've been through so much and you're still here. I think that's incredible." Spencer blushed.

"Thank you. I'm really not though."

"So, you're a doctor. What kind of doctor?" Spencer was suddenly grateful to Mel for changing the topic of conversation.

"I actually have three PhDs- Mathematics, chemistry and engineering, I also have BAs in psychology and sociology." Mel's smile widened and she reached a hand over the table to him. Spencer considered her hand for a moment, her fingernails painted black, and grasped her fingers with his own. He drank in her appearance, and the scent of vanilla and cherry blossoms of her perfume. Mel was a far cry from the women he had encountered before, but there was something about her that drew him in. He feared her rejection if she knew about his past, the things he had been through, the things he had done. She broke off a piece of Spencer's muffin and pushed it past his lips. His brows shot up in surprise.

"Get out of your head, Smarty McSmartypants."

"Huh?"

"You got lost in your head. Don't forget that I've seen it before. Not just in you. It's going to take a lot more than some trauma to scare me away."

"It's just, I'm an FBI agent. I've had to do things that I'm not proud of."

"I'm a prison officer, Spencer. I've seen the worst of the worst. I have done things that I'm not proud of too. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

"And what is that?"

"I like you, Dr Reid. Do you know that you're the first person who truly listened to me? In a male dominated career, I have been very much alone for years. Most guys just want to talk baseball or football. I like nerdy things. I like music. But who wants to listen to that?"

"Me." Spencer's response was so quiet, almost inaudible, but Mel heard it. She grabbed her coffee and sipped it, the foam sitting on her top lip like a mustache. Spencer chuckled and indicated his top lip. Mel poked out her tongue and lapped up the foam. Spencer picked up his cup and debated how he would drink from it. Mel giggled at the man's mental struggle and dropped a drinking straw into the top. Spencer scowled at her and she shrugged. He was unable to stop the burst of laughter that was growing in his chest and he slurped his coffee through the striped straw.

The pair sat in a comfortable silence, generally enjoying each other's company as they ate their muffins and drank their coffee. Mel could see that the young man was exhausted, yet something troubled him. He pressed his palm harshly into his eye.

"Spencer, are you okay?" Spencer tucked a hand into his blazer and pulled out a white fob. His eyes were tightly squeezed shut and he pressed down on the fob. Blood trickled out of his nose.

"No… I'm going to have a seizure…." Mel was instantly on her feet, helping Spencer off the chair and down to the floor. "My neck…" Mel moved around on her knees so that she was above his head and supported his head and neck with her hands.

"It's okay. You're safe." Spencer's eyes rolled back into his head, leaving the whites visible beneath his rapidly blinking lids. His jaw writhed against the collar and his fingers curled into claws. Mama May gasped in horror.

"What's happening?" she cried.

"He's having a seizure. He's okay. Just time it for me," answered Mel firmly. Mama May nodded and turned her attention to the clock on the wall. Spencer's Converses scuffed the floor as the convulsions set in, his limbs jerking uncontrollably. "It's okay, Spencer. You're safe." After two and half minutes that felt akin to two and a half hours, Spencer's jerking slowed to a halt and his breathing evened out, his eyes fluttering shut. "How long?"

"Two and a half minutes," said Mama May. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine." Mel kept one hand on the unconscious man's face and ran the fingers of her other hand through his damp curls. Only moments later, a Hispanic man burst through the door, sweat beading his brow.

"Reid?" shouted the man. Mel glanced up.

"He's okay," responded Mel. Luke's expression softened. "I kept his head and neck stable whilst he was fitting. Don't worry, I'm first aid trained."

"Thank god. I panicked when I got the text from his pendant alarm." Spencer's eyes sluggishly opened. His confusion was palpable.

"Wha'... Happen?" slurred Spencer. Mel gently shushed him.

"You're okay. You had a tonic clonic seizure. Two and a half minutes. You're perfectly safe." Spencer blinked, the image of Luke and Mel coming into focus.

"Let's get you back to Rossi's, Reid. You need to rest." Luke gathered Spencer up into a bridal carry with his right arm hooked under his knees and his left arm around the small of his back. Spencer's head rested against his shoulder. Mel grabbed Spencer's cane and set a few dollar bills down on the table to pay for their drinks and snacks.. She followed Luke and Spencer out to the black government-issue SUV parked outside and put the cane in the backseat as Luke strapped the young man into the passenger seat. Luke turned to her.

"Thank you for looking after him," said Luke sincerely, glancing back at his drowsy friend.

"It's a pleasure. I'm going to follow you to this 'Rossi's' house."

"I can give you a ride?" offered Luke. Mel chuckled.

"No need. I have my ride right there." Mel indicated to the purple motorbike parked in front of the SUV, the paintwork gleaming in the sun. Luke's mouth gawped.

"That's yours?" Mel smirked and zipped up her jacket. She reached for the helmet hooked over the handle bar. She pulled it on over her head and slid the visor up. She lifted one leg over the bike and seated herself on it, buckling the helmet strap under her chin.

"Get to it, then." Luke shook his head in disbelief and climbed into the car. The motorbike roared to life as Luke pulled away from the curb.