It was late, you were curled up on the couch with Spencer, his arm draped around your shoulders while his other hand rested on your knee. The only light in the room came from the flicker of the TV.

You turned your head, smiling as you caught him staring at you instead of the screen. “What?” you asked softly.

He shrugged. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About?”

Spencer tilted his head, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. “Just— I don’t want anything to happen to you… like ever. I do think that— if anybody hurts you…” He paused, his expression growing mock-serious. “I’d go to prison for life.”

You laughed, swatting at his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious!” he insisted, his grin widening. “If someone hurt you, I wouldn’t even think twice about it.”

“Yeah, well, let’s hope it never comes to that,” you teased, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

——————-

The memory haunted you as you sat in the prison visiting room. It had been months since that night, months since the life you’d built together had been shattered.

The unsub his team was looking for had taken you. Spencer had found you. But the unsub had escaped.

The nightmare hadn’t ended there, though. For nearly a year, Spencer had been consumed by the hunt, his obsession with finding the man who’d hurt you driving him to a breaking point. When he finally found him, he hadn’t called for backup. He hadn’t called anyone.

And now, here you were. Sitting on a shitty bed in an even shittier room that is gonna be yours for the night— thanks to the strings Emily Prentiss pulled for you both.

The door creaked open, and Spencer stepped into the room, wearing a blue denim long sleeve button down with a white tee and blue jeans, the clothes that every inmate wore. He looked thinner, his hair longer and unkempt, but his eyes lit up the moment he saw you.

“Hey,” he said softly, stopping a few steps away as if unsure of what you’d do.