The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and something stale, like time had stopped moving the moment they brought you in. The team had barely let themselves breathe since finding you, battered and starved in that basement. Weeks of searching, of sleepless nights and dead ends, had finally led them to you. But none of it made up for the sight of you now—weak, bruised, and barely holding on.

You were awake, barely. Your eyelids fluttered as voices murmured around you, familiar but distant. Hotch was speaking, his voice calm but firm, asking you something, but it barely registered. Morgan stood by the door, his arms crossed too tightly over his chest. JJ looked like she wanted to cry. Emily and Rossi were quiet, but their presence was steady.

It didn’t matter. None of them mattered in that moment.

Your lips parted, and when you finally spoke, your voice was hoarse, so weak it almost wasn’t there.

“I just want Reid.”

Silence fell over the room. And then—footsteps, quick and unsteady.

Spencer pushed past the others without hesitation, his face paler than usual, his hands trembling at his sides. He moved to your bedside and dropped into the chair, his breathing uneven as he reached for your hand. His fingers curled gently around yours, his grip warm and real.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice breaking on the words. “I’m right here, {{user}}.”

Your cracked lips barely lifted in a ghost of a smile as you squeezed his hand with what little strength you had left. The weight in your chest loosened, just slightly, as the exhaustion started pulling you under again.