❝It's mortifying to be the one who remembers.❞

RYAN O'CONNELL

✩

3.1 : the courage to love

OR

season 4, episode 24 : amplification (ctd.)

IT'S BEEN HOURS AND SPENCER'S STILL SLEEPING. Fin can't remember the last time she stood up or when her butt went numb sitting on this very painful hospital chair, but she's going to hold his hand until he wakes up. That much, she knows.

Morgan's on the opposite side of Spencer's bed, eating nasty hospital Jell-O and flipping through the latest Sports Illustrated. Every once in a while, he passes it across to Fin when there's an interesting page or article, and especially the ridiculous ads, like the Evan Williams whiskey ad that reads "The longer you wait...the better it gets," with photos of a woman in her bathrobe versus the same woman in a tiny red dress and a seductive look on her face.

Fin's attempted to read, but she finds that she just can't focus when Spencer's hand is limp in hers. Somehow, it's just not the same when she knows he could've died. She feels like she needs to be here, to be present with him, to memorize the way he looks right now.

She must have dozed off a little, though, because Spencer squeezes her hand and she almost falls out of her chair. He blinks once, twice, and then frowns sleepily over at Morgan. "Are you eating Jell-O?" he asks in a hoarse voice.

Morgan looks up and grins. "Hmm. Hey, kid."

"Hi, Spencer," Fin whispers, squeezing his hand back. Spencer stirs and looks over at her, an exhausted smile on his face.

"Hey, doc," Morgan calls out into the hall. "Look who's back."

"Is there any more Jell-O?" Spencer asks, his eyes still barely open.

"Hey," Dr. Kimura says, coming over to stand by the end of his bed and smiling proudly. "Not so fast."

Spencer attempts to sit up, and Fin jumps to move the pillows behind him so he can. "What happened?" he asks, blinking the sleepiness from his eyes.

"You're gonna be okay, Spence," Fin says, taking his hand again. There's that lump in her throat again. Damn these emotions.

"We got Brown," Morgan adds, grinning. "It's over."

"How's Abby?" Spencer asks.

"She's on the mend," Dr. Kimura replies happily. "So are the three others. You were right about where to look for his cure."

Spencer attempts another sleepy smile, then frowns, confused. "Why was Dr. Nichols making anthrax in the first place?"

"He was a brain scientist downgraded to working on the flu." Morgan shrugs. "Brown comes along, asking for help on his thesis..."

"Probably more than happy to share his knowledge," Spencer finishes, nodding grimly.

"There was no indication that Nichols had any idea what Brown was planning," Morgan continues.

"His strain and its cure are getting locked up in containment at Fort Detrick," Dr. Kimura adds. "With all the other bioagents people don't know about."

"Really?" Morgan raises his eyebrows. "What else do they have locked up in there?"

There's a short, poignant silence until Spencer clears his throat and asks, "So...can I have Jell-O now?"

Both Morgan and Fin burst into laughter, the first time either of them have laughed since this whole thing started, and Fin nods, wiping a tear from her eye. "Yeah, Spence. We'll get you some Jell-O." She starts to stand up, but Spencer hangs onto her hand, pulling her back down.

"Um, Morgan, actually, could you give us a minute?" he asks.

Fin's heart skips a beat.

"Yeah, sure." Morgan gives him a smirk. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

After Morgan's gone, Spencer looks over at Fin and squeezes her hand gently. "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" She chuckles softly. "Spence, you're the one who almost died. I think I should be asking you that question."

"I'm actually fine. Just tired." And he yawns widely. "But... I thought I heard you say something. In the ambulance on the way here."

Fin tenses. She knows what she said. She'd never have said it if he weren't dying. She thought he was passed out.

"Did you say 'I love you'?" Spencer asks wisely, giving her that piercing, serious look she loves and hates.

"Um..." She takes a deep breath, runs her free hand over the knee of her pants, anything to keep from looking him in the eye. "You have to understand, Spencer, I was–"

"Did you say it?"

"I thought you were dying and–"

"Hazel." Spencer reaches over and tilts her chin up to look at him. "Did you say it?"

"Yes." It's a whisper, barely audible. It brings her back to that night in her apartment when he got her to say that someone was stalking her. "I thought you were going to die, so I said it. I said it because I was afraid I couldn't say it again."

Spencer's eyes widen. He leans back against his pillows, but his eyes never leave hers. "Hazel, I'm tired of this. Between us. I'm tired of the back and forth, the secret touches and then nothing for weeks. I don't know what you want."

The truth is that Fin doesn't know what she wants, either. This scares her but at the same time, there's no one else in the world that makes her feel as safe as the man who's holding her hand. It was Eleanor Roosevelt who said, "You must do the things you think you cannot do."

So Fin takes a deep breath and says, "I want you."

Spencer says nothing. He just watches her, and she takes it as a cue to go on. "I'm not good at this, I'm not good at talking about feelings, about what I want. But I want to trust you. I want to be with you."

"I want to be with you, too," Spencer says, and he's blushing furiously but smiling anyway. "I want you to know that I'm always here."

"I know." Fin wipes the tears from her eyes, laughing a little. "God, I'm always so close to tears these days."

"Come up here." Spencer pats the bed next to him.

"What? No, I don't want to hurt you–"

"I'm fine. Come up here."

Tentatively, Fin climbs onto the bed next to him, careful not to hit him with her elbows or knees, and Spencer pulls her right up next to him, so that her head rests right on his chest, his arm looped around her waist loosely. He kisses the side of her head gently. "See, this... This is what I mean. Stay here with me."

"Spencer..." Fin props herself up on an elbow, looking down at him–looking at his lips.

He cups her jaw with his free hand and then pulls her down into a sweet kiss. She pulls away, shaking her head. "Should we–Is this okay, with what just happened? Are we allowed to–?"

Spencer shushes her, grinning. "Anthrax isn't transmittable from person to person, and if you're worried about my being able to breathe, please shut up." And he kisses her again, sliding his hand up into her hair, his other hand finding the bare sliver of skin between her sweater and her pants and painting circles of fire there with his fingers.

Eleanor Roosevelt also said, "It takes courage to love, but pain through love is the purifying fire which those who love generously know."

She was right.

✩

Spencer forces Fin to go home around nine p.m., saying that he'll be fine, she needs to sleep, and he'll call her in the morning. She gives him one last kiss, one that says finally, and Spencer holds her there, sighing against her lips. "I know it's only been a few hours," he murmurs, "but I don't think I'll ever get tired of this."

"Good night, Spencer," Fin whispers, and reluctantly, she pulls away, leaving him there in the hospital bed.

In the elevator down to the ground floor, Fin dials Jo's number, ready to let her know that she'll be coming by to pick up Lars. It rings twice, then Jo picks up. "Hello?"

It's a very uncharacteristic greeting for Jo; usually it's,"Yo!" or, "Hey, bitch!" or even sometimes, "Jo mama speaking." Fin frowns. "Hey, Jo, it's Fin. Is everything okay?"

"She's not here," Jo whispers.

"What?"

"Lars. She–she's not here."

Fin's heart leaps into her throat. She can't breathe. "What? For how long?"

"Not long. I just–I stepped out to smoke, and she stayed inside watching NCIS, and I was only gone for, like, five minutes, but when I went back in, she just–she wasn't there."

"Shit." Fin slams her hand against the elevator door, so, so tired of Lars' antics. "Okay, maybe she just went home. I'll check my apartment and call you if she's there."

"I'm so sorry, Fin," Jo says, her voice trembling slightly. "I swear, I was only gone–"

"It's fine. Really. She does this a lot. I was just hoping..." Fin trails off. The elevator doors open. "I'll call you later." She steps out of the elevator and hurries down the hall and out into the parking lot. It's already dark out, and the wind is gusting pretty hard, sending chills down Fin's spine. She pulls her coat closer around her, hurrying toward her car.

The drive from Walter Reed to her apartment in Quantico is an hour, and it's an hour of tense silence. Fin tries to put some music on, but it only heightens the fear building in her stomach. As far as she knows, Nick is still very much stalking her, even though he hasn't left anything or tried to talk to her again. What if he sees Lars alone at her apartment?

Fin presses the gas pedal a little harder, heart racing so fast she feels like it might beat out of her chest. God, please let her be there. Please let her be safe.

It's like ten years have passed by when Fin careens into her parking lot, skidding to a stop in front of her apartment. She grabs her go bag and her keys and races inside, up the stairs, and straight to her front door, stopping only long enough to check the door lock. It's still locked.

Lars has keys, so maybe she locked the door. Fin jiggles the key in the lock, her hands shaking furiously, and bursts inside, dropping her bag and pulling her gun immediately. She tiptoes down the hall, clearing it, and then into the living room. "Lars?"

No answer.

Fin checks the bathroom. No one. The bedroom's clear, too. "Lars?"

Nothing.

Shit.

She slips her gun back into its holster and pulls out her phone, dialing Lars' number with shaking fingers. It rings once, twice, three times, and then there's a click. "Hey. It's Lars. You know the drill." And then an automated voice tells Fin to leave a message after the beep.

"Pick up," Fin breathes, calling her again. But it goes to voicemail again.

Fin calls three more times, pacing around the kitchen, forcing herself to breathe in, breathe out. Every single time, it goes to voicemail. So she leaves one. "Come home. Right now. When you hear this, come home."

Fin sits down on the couch, pulling the quilt Lars was using just the other night around her shoulders. She'll wait until Lars comes home. She'll stay up. She has to know Lars is safe.

So she stays there. Her legs fall asleep after an hour, and she starts to fall asleep after two, but she pinches herself to stay awake.

The icemaker in the fridge makes ice around eleven-thirty. The heater kicks on at midnight. Mrs. Wu's ancient cat pukes its heart out around one. Fin forces her eyes to stay open, refuses to move. She's got a perfect view of the door. She'll know when Lars comes in.

She must have dozed off a few times, because the microwave reads 1:35 one minute and 2:20 the next, and the next time she looks at it, it says 3:02. So she gets up, goes to the kitchen to find something to eat, even though she's not hungry at all.

After deciding nothing in the fridge is appetizing, Fin opts to make tea. She fills her ancient kettle full and sets it on the stove to boil, and then realizes she never took her shoes off.

The front door lock turns.

Oh, God.

Fin pulls her gun from its holster, pointing it at the door.

The door creaks open and Lars steps inside, looking exhausted. Fin sighs and lowers her gun. "Oh, my god, what the actual hell, Lars–?"

And then Nick steps in behind her.

Fin's gun flies back up, pointing directly at his head. "Hands up," she warns.

Nick's eyes widen and he raises his arms in surrender. "Hey, hey," he says, shaking his head slowly. "Calm down."

"What are you doing with my sister?" Fin asks, her voice trembling without her consent.

"Fin, stop." Lars stands in front of Nick protectively, her hands stretched out like she thinks she can stop a bullet. "I can explain–"

"What are you doing here with her? Have you been taking advantage of her, too?"

Lars opens her mouth again, but Fin interrupts. "You're stalking me and sneaking around with my sister? And I thought you couldn't get any lower."

Nick looks very confused. "Stalking you? I'm not stalking you."

"That's what they all say. Leaving jars of flowers? Creepy notes?"

"I didn't do that, Hazel. You have to believe me–"

"It's Fin," she hisses, willing her hands not to shake.

"Fin, listen," Nick says, and he pushes Lars out of the way so he can step closer to Fin. "I know we had problems in the past, but I swear, if you just let me explain–"

"Get away from me." Fin shakes her head, backs into the kitchen counter, gun still pointed at him. "Get away."

"Give me half an hour," Nick pleads, his eyes serious. "Please, Fin. Just let me explain."

Behind them, the kettle whistles piercingly, the water bubbling ominously within.

"Just let me explain," Nick repeats, dark eyes boring into Fin's.

To his right, Lars nods, a single tear sliding down her cheek and off her chin.

Fin sighs.

Lowers her gun.

"Half an hour."

~

a surprise update in honor of 23k??? what??? you are WELCOME

y'all the massive twist is coming and i'm so freaking excitedddd

thank you again for all the sweet votes and comments. i'm so happy that other people love this story as much as i do :)