checkmate , s.reid

030 » THE APOLOGIES

tw for mentions of self harm and suicide

"Hey, Reid?" I call out as the team are leaving the hospital room after saying their goodbyes.

He turns back to me, lingering in the doorway as the others all file out. "Yeah?" he asks.

A nervous fire is set alight in the pit of my stomach, its flames licking at my organs as it crawls through my body until it lodges itself in my throat. "Can you..." I hesitate, swallowing harshly. "Can you stay, for a minute? I- I want to talk to you. Please."

After a second of hesitation, he says, "Sure."

Gently closing the door, Reid walks back over to me, taking a seat in the chair beside the mildly uncomfortable hospital bed. He studies me in an almost hesitant way, his eyes seeming reluctant to take a proper look at me. Of course, I do not blame him for that— I probably look awful. Worse than awful, even.

I take a moment to gather my thoughts before I speak. "I just... I want to apologise, and I also want to say thank you."

Although my gaze is fixed on my hands as I fidget with my fingers, I can feel him looking at me. He is waiting for me to continue, and as he waits, he is picking apart my brain. He is trying to figure out my thoughts, trying to predict what I will say before I have the chance to say it.

I take a breath that sends slight pain jarring through my sides, but I ignore it. "I'm sorry for yelling at you, y'know, in the parking lot. I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have gotten so mad. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he replies.

Glancing at him, I say, "Let me finish," in an almost pleading tone.

"But—," he starts.

"Please," I interrupt quickly. "I just want to say this."

His eyes soften slightly and he nods, keeping quiet. A thick silence hangs in the space between us for a moment, broken only by the noises of the hospital. The air around us seems more tense than usual— which is certainly saying something.

"You were right," I continue, my throat feeling tight with guilt as I speak. "I shouldn't— I shouldn't have yelled at you, and I shouldn't have gotten so mad, because you were right. Telling the others about Jackson would've been— it would've been the logical thing to do but I... I was just—,"

I cut myself off, gently tracing the tip of my index finger over the bandage on my hand. "I was just scared," I admit, my voice a lot quieter now. "I didn't... I didn't want them to think of me any differently, or to think I was stupid for not leaving sooner."

Pausing, I take a slightly shaky breath. I hate the way that just talking about this has me all anxious and emotional. I feel stupid. He probably thinks I am being stupid.

"So I- I shouldn't have shouted at you, or called you a cunt and stuff," I mutter, keeping my gaze away from him. "You didn't deserve that. You were right, and I wasn't willing to accept it. I was the one being a cunt."

I breathe out a slight sigh, picking at my fingernails to give my hands something to do. "And I... I just..." My voice trails off as I struggle to find the words to say, scouring my mind but coming up painfully empty handed. I feel tears in my eyes and I am surprised that there are even any left in my body after all the crying I have done recently. "I'm sorry, I just, I can't— I'm sorry—,"

"Hey, hey, listen to me." Spencer's voice is barely more than a whisper as he shifts the chair slightly closer to the bed. I let my gaze wander back to him as he says, "Take your time, okay? And stop apologising. You have nothing to be sorry for."