You've always considered yourself just your average woman. Sure, tragedy has struck you like it does to everyone eventually. But you've been making the best of it.
You first met Dr. Spencer Reid at Bennington Sanitarium when he came to visit his mot...
"Please, Y/N, just relax and let me take care of you for a change," Spencer said to me as I struggled to get out of bed.
"I was just going to grab a bite to eat," I said wearily. My shoulder was still in a sling. I was lucky that the bullet had missed all my main arteries, but my muscles weren't without wear and tear. I also had a few cracked ribs from Carol kicking the shit out of me (Or Lindsey as I had discovered). Everything hurt like hell. The stitches in my head would be ready to come out in a few weeks, but Dr. Reid had told me that it would take a while longer for my arm to regain full mobility. He had a whole recovery plan for me actually. And apparently it included not even getting up from my bed.
Spencer carefully set a bowl of chicken noodle soup on the nightstand next to my bed. There were crackers and a cup of lavender tea already sitting there from earlier. He sat down next to me and brushed my hair out of my eyes.
"I can take care of myself," I said softly, knowing full well that I'd have an easier time recovering with Spencer's help. He had already committed to taking time off of work until I made a full recovery. It made me feel guilty. I was the one that took care of people, I wasn't sure how to feel being the one that needed help. I rarely found myself needing assistance.
"I know you can, Y/N," Spencer said gently as he kissed my forehead, "But you don't have to."
I knew he needed time off from work anyways. He had spent god knows how long in prison and just lost his mother. The funeral was supposed to be this weekend. Even if he didn't have me to look after, I knew he wouldn't be at work right now. Maybe it was better that he had me to distract him from the absolute tragedies he had just experienced.
I sighed as I let him spoon feed me.
~~~~~
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Diana's funeral hit me like a trainwreck. I wasn't sure who was crying more, me or Spencer. Actually, Garcia might have cried the most. None of us were stable enough to say any words at the service. Spencer did try though. He stood at the podium and was able to say, "My mom...was a really great mother..." before turning into a waterfall of tears. Derek Morgan and JJ had to lead him off the stage. He was crying so hard I was sure he couldn't see anything. He took a seat next to me and continued to sob while I pulled his head to my chest and cried into his hair. Garcia hugged both of us. We made a trio of leaking eyes and runny noses. Watching them lower Diana's casket into the ground was one of the saddest things I'd ever experienced. The only thing worse had been watching my own parents be buried. But at least they still had each other. Diana was in the dirt all alone. At least we had the team. Hotch's usual stoicism had broken. His face held visible sadness, though I've still never seen him actually cry. Derek was a sturdy emotional support. He made sure Spencer and I knew he was there to help out with anything we needed. Emily Prentiss and JJ were glued to us. They had tissues at the ready and constantly whispered comforting sentiments to us. Rossi showed his affection differently. He was almost as calm as Hotch, with a bit of awkwardness and sympathy peeking through. He ended up paying for the entire funeral service though and sent us flowers every day the entire week after. I wasn't sure how Spencer felt about the flowers, but I did appreciate a beautiful smell in this cruel world.
