tw: mention of typical criminal minds case, mention of blood, concussion, spoiler for season 8, mention of Maeve's death.

set in somewhere in season 9

—

Hospitals are something he has grown used to due to his job. He has never liked the smell or the color of the walls, and the lights really make him anxious. He can feel sharp pain in his temples and burning in his eyes, which makes him grimace. Wave of nausea washes over him, his stomach spasms unpleasantly and metallic taste colors his mouth. Saliva is tick to swallow and his throat is dry. His whole body makes him feel uncomfortable in his own skin.

Spencer really, really does not like hospitals.

"I wouldn't suggest moving for now."

He opens his eyes, resisting the urge to close them again when the light hits him, making throbbing of his head stronger.

"My team," he mumbles, hand covering right side of his face. His fingers touch something sticky that he figures out is blood after moment.

"They are fine," the same voice answers and the someone's hand covers his wrist, taking it away. "Agent Blake has some small injures, but nothing serious. You, on other hand, have a concussion, so please, stay still for a moment."

Spencer pauses for a moment, listening carefully, and then looks up, meeting a pair of brown eyes.

"Dr. Reid, right?" The woman in front of him smiles encouragingly, waiting for his answer.

The first thing his brain comes up with is you are so pretty, but there is no possible way he is going to say it aloud, so Spencer blinks a few time and nods.

"Don't movie your head," she says, her hand letting go of his wrist just so she can lay it on his jaw. Spencer feels something curls uncomfortably under his ribs when warm fingers brush his skin, but the touch was brief, as if she knows he wouldn't like it. "Do you feel dizzy? Please, use your words."

"A little," he answers slowly, his own voice strange to his ears.

She hums under her nose and, much to Spencer's relief, takes away her hand.

"I am Dr. Wilson," the doctor smiles at him again, making his stomach spasm nervously but not in unpleasant way. "Now, I imagine you are not the biggest fan of hospitals, but I really need to check on you. I think you haven't even noticed that your bleeding."

He blinks again, eyes shifting to his fingers where dry blood colored the skin.

Oh, right.

"I need to clean it up. And see if there is a need for stitches."

"A, y-yes, of course."

His head is a messy place right now, but Spencer still tries to recall every detail of their mission, face of young girl fresh in his mind; her trembling hands and bare foot, covered in blood. Her brown eyes were scared, so scared, her fear crawls up to his own spine. She looked so small and so pale, as if death itself was holding her in its embrace and its cold breath was imprinted on her skin.

They failed to save three other girls, but this one – Gwen, her name is Gwen – is back to her family, traumatized but alive. Safe.

Spencer hopes that with time she will heal. Hope is the only thing they all have left in the end.

"How is Gwen?"

Dr. Wilson looks up from her papers. Her eyes are really warm; he can't help but think. It's like sunlight is dancing in them, warming her gaze and lighting up her entire face.

"She is fine," her fingers curl under his jaw again. He stills. "Sorry. I really need to look at your wound," he can tell she is doing her best to keep her touch brief, which again, Spencer appreciates. Maybe if he wouldn't have a concussion he would worry that his dislike of physical contact is this obvious, but right now all he can think about is burning pain in his temples and noise in the back of his head. "Her parents got here ten minutes ago. She is scared, but alive. All thanks to you."

"Yeah, well... it's our job," he smiles awkwardly, anxiety biting inside. He feels his stomach spasm nervously.

"And you did it great," her fingers move further on his jaw, tilting his head a little and then he feels sharp pain on his forehead. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Spencer's smile loosens a little, tension leaving his body. His eyes find her face; soft and calm, and yeah, she is really pretty. "I'm just glad she is okay."

"Dr. Wilson," the door opens and young woman enters, her eyes falling on the doctor, after sending him a small smile. "Are you done? There is someone who wants to see Dr. Reid."

He blinks.

"Tell them to wait a little, I am almost done-"

"Is he okay?"

Spencer stills for a moment and then immediately leans forward to have a better look at the door. He can never forget that voice; scared and soft, fear ringing in them with each word. Now the conflicted look on the woman's face makes sense.

"Hey there," he says softly, looking how the girl that they just rescue walks inside with her mother behind her. "Is everything okay?"

Dr. Wilson steps aside, giving them some space but he hardly noticed, his eyes are focused on Gwen's figure. She is no longer trembling and she is cleaned up, bandages covering her hands where fresh wound were bleeding when they found her. Her face is still pale but her eyes are clear.

"Yeah... yeah, I just-" her hand moves to her face, as if trying to swap away all the nervousness she is feeling. Spencer feels his heart squeezes in his chest. He watches how the girl nervously twitches her trembling fingers. "I just wanted t-to know that you are okay and... well, I-"

"It's okay, Gwen," he smiles softly, leaning a little bit closer, keeping some distance because he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable with his touch. "I promise you; I am fine, it's just a little scratch. I will be fine."

His heart breaks for her. She is so small and so scared, and even if they got to her on time, did they really save her, when this little girl, who had a whole future ahead of herself; bright and colorful, is now touched by the ugliness of the human nature. Spencer wishes there was more for them to do, to make it easier for her, but all he can do is stand in front of her and wait.

"Okay. Yeah, okay."

There is a silence for a moment, then Gwen's shoulders tense, and that's when Spencer sees it.

His arms are open when her trembling body crushes into his chest, hands crossing around his middle and holding onto him as if he is the life itself. She cries quietly, choking sounds leaving her lips, and he wants to tell her not to hold back, but he knows it is not going to help her, and she is probably too far away in her thoughts to hear him.

"Thank you," she whispers and there the relief and the agony is bleeding in her voice. "Thank you for coming after me."

Spencer sighs, wrapping his own arms around Gwen's trembling shoulders; his touch light and soft, just to hold her and to keep her here and now, remind her that she is away from dark basements and the monster that hurt her. He starts to swing them gently, creating the false sense of security; the one that a child feels in the arms of its mother. He hopes it feels like Morgan's hugs; strong and warm, the one that makes easer to breathe for a moment, because his hand is steady on Spencer back and the familiar smell of his cologne keeps him grounded. Morgan is the safety he needs, the one that Spencer can get only from him, because... well. It's not really the hugs for him. It's Morgan.

He feels fingers on his shirt tighten.

The nurse that brought them in, put a hand on Gwen's mother's back, in attempt to conform her when she as well starts to cry. He meets Dr. Wilson's eyes, and there is a soft understanding in them. She gives him a small smile which he returns, still holding her gaze and feeling how something in his chest loosens.

This job takes most of you. It is stressful and heavy, and most of the time you feel like choking, when your mind can understand the sickest part of human nature and sometimes it is so, so easy to cross the lines you really, really shouldn't. You need a reminder. Why are you doing this. Why do you need to wake up every day, already prepared to see the things you wish you wouldn't, feeling how death once again steps closer to you, its hand brushing your own, you need to remember. All the life you have saved. All the people that get home safely to their families because you slept few hours less and worked a little bit harder than yesterday.

Spencer holds this young girl, knowing that he will come back to Gwen Johns when he will need a reminder.

When she finally calms down, her mother takes her for checkup, after he promises to visit before going home.

"I can't imagine how hard it is, to see all of this."

Spencer blinks.

"Well... it is not harder than your job."

Dr. Wilson hums under her nose and gets back to her job. She is very close and he can't help but notice the faith smell of lavender. Her fingers are gentle.

"I hope there is place for you to go after all of this, Dr. Reid."

He stills, meeting her soft gaze.

The thing is, there was. There was a place for him to go; faceless figure with a steady voice, the one that liked to rumble about Arthur Conan Doyle, listen him quoting "Thy fingers make early flowers of", even though she knew it by heart, argue about small things just for her to whine in the end are you going to argue about everything I say, Spencer, and, of course, he would let her have it, because he was a weak man just for the smile he couldn't see but could hear in her voice.

There was a place for him to go, even if it wasn't really normal, but it was enough for him to breath and for his heart to settle in his chest, clinging to the memories of their talks that would smooth the deep feeling of longing in his soul.

There was a place for him to go, until there wasn't. The voice on the other line finally had a face, and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen; with the brightest eyes that were reflecting all the emotions he was feeling.

The memories of Maeve are there, but alongside of her laugh and all the what-could-have-been, there is her lifeless body laying on the cold floor; the one he didn't have a chance to hold, and to learn, and to love. He hates the fact that it's not only her he had lost but also the safe place where he could go.

He doesn't answer anything and just nods, still holding the gaze of brown eyes.

"Thank you."

His chest is heavy.

_

He doesn't expect to meet Dr. Wilson again, but life is a funny thing.

Not that he minds.

His day starts with headache and burnt toasts, but it is fine, really, as long as he gets his morning coffee. He is not in a bad mood, but he is not joyful either. It is just another Tuesday; air is chilly, but the sky is clear and sun is warming the ground.

His night was peaceful. There weren't any dreams or nightmares, so he does not feel too tired, which is already a good thing. There is an Edgar Allan Poe's novel in his bag that he probably will read while waiting for his coffee. Maybe he will do it outside because weather is really nice, and he still has some time until his work starts.

Well, Rossi did tell him to spend some time on the fresh air.

There is a small coffee shop nestled on a corner of the street called "Nancy", Garcia discovered that place a few weeks and she really likes their donuts. Spencer started taking his coffee from there, so he can also take her some sweets.

A weathered wooden sign greets him, adorned with whimsical script, hung above the entrance, its paint faded a little from years of sun and rain. Even from outside he can picture the warm embrace of rich aromas and soft lighting that create an imaginary bubble, to separate the building from the chaotic rhythm of outside world. Sunlight filters through the oversized windows, casting a gentle glow over the eclectic mix of mismatched furniture that filled the space. Plush armchairs nestle alongside sturdy wooden tables, with fresh flowers on them.

The air is vibrating with the soothing hum of conversations and the rhythmic whir of espresso machine, mixed by the occasional burst of laughter.

Spencer can see why Penelope loves this place.

He fixes his scarf, feeling the scent of freshly ground coffee filling his lungs. There aren't many people early in the morning, which is a win for him.

He closes the door after him softly, not wanting to disturb others, and when he turns around someone crashes into his chest suddenly.

"Oh God, I am so sorry! I didn't... Dr. Reid?"

"Dr. Wilson," he says, surprise clear on his face. "Oh, hi! H-hello."

"Hi," she smiles and there is a laughter in her voice. There are small wrinkles around her lips. She probably smiles a lot. "Please, call me Camila."

"Yeah, uh, Spencer is fine."

"Okay, Spencer," she says and then makes a vague gesture towards her head. "How is the head?"

"Oh, it is okay! Completely fine, thank you," he answers truthfully. It has been two weeks, after all and he just had a little scratch.

"That's good."

She is still smiling and he can't help but give her a shy smile in return.

Dc. Wilson – Camila – is really very pretty. Pretty like JJ is; there is something soft and airy in them, something that you can't help but notice. Maybe it is in the eyes; they are really captivating. Or maybe it is the way they look at him; forward and confident, like they see him but not through him like Hotch or Gideon. Or maybe it is the way their smiles change their faces. Their smiles are different, though. JJ is soft; it is in her nature really. She is gentle as much as playful and her smiles are usually short but welcoming. They are one of his favorites; the ones that he keeps very close to his heart, to warm it when demons in his head start to whisper.

Camila smiles wildly. There is gentleness in her smile as well, but it is so bright, it is almost blinding. It is like a summer sun early in the morning; warm but not burning, the one that is gentle enough to run over little children's skin, placing soft kisses and leaves a touch of summer on them.

It makes his heart flutter.

She is wearing a white, long-sleeve sweater that is tucked into a pair of high-waisted jeans. That is when he notices the cup of coffee in her hand which is spilled on the sleeve of her sweater.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Spencer immediately reaches to his pocket, pulling out the dark-blue handkerchief that Black got him recently, and holds it out for her. "I should have been more careful."

"No, it was my fault really," she takes the clothes from him gratefully, and shakes the papers in her other hand. "My head was really somewhere else."

"Work?"

"Yeah," he watches how she cleans her fingers that are probably really sticky right now, and can't help but wrinkle his nose in sympathy. "Can I get you another cup? I'm really so sorry"

"I already told you, it was not your fault," she is fully laughing now, and yeah, it is as pretty as her smile. "But I would like you to buy me a coffee."

Camila tilts her head a little, looking at him with a small smile. He doesn't get it at first. But then her smile widens and she is biting her lower lip, and...

Oh.

His heart skips a beat.

Oh.

"Oh. Um. Y-yeah, I mean," he clears his throat, fingers curling over his bag. He feels heat creeping to the beck of his neck. "Of course. I would... I would really like to buy you a coffee. Yeah."

"That's good," she says, and her eyes are so bright. This is not the first time he notices how her smile lights up her entire face. It is really very fascinating to watch. Her lips look very soft. His brain can't stop noticing things that make his stomach flutter. "I am late for a work but I don't really want to wait for a lucky third meeting, so... can I have your number?"

Wow, this is really happening is his first thought.

"Yeah, um..." he reaches out his hand towards her head, his fingers brushing over dark strands behind her ears. He can't hold back a smile as Camila's face lights up in excitement when he pulls out a card with his number on it.

No way Morgan is finding out about this is his second thought.

"Here you go."

She takes a card from his hand, her eyes running over the numbers, and then looks at him.

"Seems like there is a lot for me to learn about you, Dr. Reid."

"Well," Spencer touches his nose awkwardly, lowering his eyes for a moment, but forcing himself to look up again. "I hope you would like what you'll learn."

"I have a feeling I will."

Air around them is different somehow. He can't describe it but it does not feel bad or uncomfortable. His breath hitches when Camila brings his handkerchief to her mouth, lips barely brushing over the cloth and her eyes still on him.

"I will give this back next time, okay?"

It is not a suggestive gesture. Her eyes are shimmering playfully and there is something innocent in a way she is holding back her laugher. That makes Spencer's smile widen.

"Okay."

"You should get me a caramel latte."

"Caramel latte. Got it."

"Good," she smiles again and steps towards the door. He is still standing there, so they are in each other's personal space, and he can feel the smell of lavender. Her eyes are even prettier up close, but he has already known this, because warm brown of her gaze has been fresh in his mind for a while. "I will call."

Spencer breaths.

"I will be waiting."

He will be.