Losing Control [ spencer reid x reader ] ✔

20. Anger

"You sure you're ready?"

You roll your eyes, limping into Spencer's kitchen. "Spence, it's been a month. I think I can handle going back to FBI training."

Spencer's on your heels, following you. "You're limping."

You turn to him, raising your eyebrows. "I'm not going to resume combat training yet. I know better than that."

Spencer sighs, leaning against his counter. "I just worry about you, that's all."

His sentence rings true. The past month of recovery had been spent almost entirely in Spencer's apartment in his bed. He telecommute cases if the BAU went out of town in order to stay with you, wanting to make your recovery as easy as possible. You'd passed the time with your psychology homework, gearing closer to graduation every day.

Recovery had been painful—you tried not to take your pain medication because you didn't want to take the chance and tempt Spencer. He'd assured you he wouldn't take any of them—he wanted you to be able to recover with the least amount of pain possible. But after a month, you can walk without crutches or a cane—you did limp, though, just a little.

You walk over to him and he rests his hands on your sides. "I promise, I will be fine. I'll be in a building full of FBI agents. Plus, I'm going to graduate in a couple weeks, so get used to me being around."

His thumb rubs circles in your side. "I know." The gaze in his eyes softens. "You've been really strong. I'm proud of you."

You give him a small kiss. "I appreciate that." Pushing him off you, you pour yourself a cup of coffee in a to go mug before grabbing your purse. "Now I have to go, or I'm gonna be late."

"Please be safe," you hear him call as you walk out his door.

The ride to the FBI Academy is a short one, and you can't help but feel somewhat excited to be going back to training. In all honesty, all you want to do is graduate and get out in the field. Your slight brush with death has driven you further to want to catch bad people, a drive that seems to hum in your chest every moment you are awake.

That drive is a good feeling—but it isn't the only thing you've been feeling the past month. Something else is blooming in your mind, hiding in the dark corners, threatening to trickle out into your everyday life.

Darkness. Anger.

A part of your innocence had been lost when Lena kidnapped you—an innocence you know you can never get back. You're changed. Anger and hatred threatens to spill into your conversations, your mind, your actions. It's an anger you're trying so hard to fight—and you aren't sure if you're winning or losing.

Suppressing that feeling, you step out of your car and head into the FBI Academy building. Your training passes quickly for the day—interrogation with none other than David Rossi being your last class.